


Harry Potter and the Return of Merlin

by luminare91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminare91/pseuds/luminare91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Voldemort regained his body, the Old Religion cried out. For the first time in more than a thousand years, Merlin is called from the forward to right the balance once more. Disguised as a fifth year student, he must fight to stop Voldemort when it is not his destiny to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: HP - definitely through the end of OotP, since Merlin is supposed to know more than most, there may be other spoilers as well. Merlin - through the end of season 3 because I haven't had a chance to watch season 4, so I can't spoil it, lol.
> 
> Beta:the wonderful animeloveramy. I don't know what I'd do without her.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Merlin. They belong to J.K. Rowling and BBC respectively. They have simply been kind enough to allow dreamers like me to indulge in fantasies involving their characters.

_Being immortal is bloody annoying,_  Merlin decided one day about twelve hundred years into his existence, after a ripple in the fabric of magic had knocked him flat on his back. Groaning softly and sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair as he tried to calm his nerves enough so that he could rebuild the mental barriers he hadn't used in over a millennia. When Morgana and Mordred had been causing trouble, they'd often used darks spells that caused the same ripple in magic. Back then, his magic had been growing and he'd been protected first by the natural shields of the young and later by shields of his own making. As magic had changed and Old Magic had become less accessible to the average wizard, Merlin had been forced to lower those shields in order to remain attuned to what was going on around him. It had been centuries since he'd even felt the need to think about his old protections. He knew of only one person in this time who might be tampering with Old Magic.

Since the fall of Camelot, Merlin had been forced to do little more than watch the world and guide it from afar, never truly interfering. He had learned quickly that mankind needed to fix its own mistakes without aid from a powerful immortal. Though he still walked the earth, he was no longer truly a part of it. He was a relic from a time long gone.

His patience had been tried sorely over the years. He had never been one to stand by when there were people who needed help. Years by Arthur's side had only strengthened that conviction. Doing nothing went completely against his character. Only the hard earned knowledge that he would be doing more harm than good had kept Merlin from acting.

The past fifty years had been more trying than most because the dark power that rose during that time was stronger than any he'd seen in centuries. Tom Riddle had done what most feared to do. He'd delved into Old Magic, coming closer to the lore and practices of the Old Religion than anyone else had since the days of Camelot. The Old Religion had not been pleased with Riddle's perversions and Merlin had sensed it in his very soul. He hadn't felt so-called to act since Arthur had still been alive.

But something had held him back. The sixth sense at the back of his mind that had always warned him that Arthur was in danger or that something horrific was going to happen to Camelot had told Merlin that it wasn't yet the time to act. Though it had gone against everything he believed it, Merlin had contented himself with merely watching.

Then the Potter family had come into the picture. It had been centuries since Merlin had felt such a connection to someone. James had rather reminded him of Arthur. They'd both been incredible prats before growing into good men. Though Lily had more fire than Gwen, she'd been the sort kind-hearted woman who saw the good in everyone she came across. It had killed Merlin not to help protect them, but he'd taken comfort in the knowledge that they were doing everything they could with the magic of their time to protect themselves.

Or so he'd thought.

As powerful as he was, Merlin couldn't see everything and he was still human, even if he was no longer mortal. He'd been trying too hard to watch everyone, to watch over Remus at the full moon because the man's plight reminded him painfully of Freya and to keep an eye on Sirius, who was reckless at the best of times and downright suicidal when he thought it might help someone else, and all the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, that he didn't notice what was happening right in front of him until it was too late.

Even after almost fifteen years, Merlin still couldn't figure out how he'd missed the switch. It hadn't been until Voldemort swept into Godric's Hollow that Merlin had realized that he had missed something important. He'd arrived just in time to see an explosion tear apart the upper level of the small house. There hadn't even been time to check for survivors before Sirius had arrived. Choking back tears of rage, Merlin had watched Sirius search the rubble until Hagrid showed up and, together, they found Harry.

Things had only gotten worse from there. Dumbledore, assuming that Sirius had been the traitor, had taken it upon himself to do something about keeping Harry out of the "traitor's" hands, thus leaving Sirius with nothing to lose and no one depending on him not to do something stupid. So he'd gone after Pettigrew, the one Marauder that Merlin had never paid much attention to. The fact that he was not the only one to make that mistake had not made him feel any better. Again, the warlock found himself arriving just moments too late to be of any use. He'd heard Pettigrew shout for the street to hear that Sirius was the traitor from around the corner and had arrived on scene just in time to see him transform and run into the sewer. The ministry had been there within seconds, giving Merlin no time to get Sirius someplace safe. He'd been taken away by the aurors and thrown into Azkaban without a trial. Merlin had spent hours cursing the fact that he had absolutely no power within the current government because he was supposed to be long dead.

He had not been in a good mood when, a few days later, he had managed to calm down enough to find out exactly what Dumbledore had done with Harry. Merlin had been seconds away from storming the headmaster's office when he discovered that Harry had been left with his magic-hating relatives. The only thing that had stopped him was that the balance had begun to rectify itself and he no longer had the right to act. That and the fact that he would have had to pause in his shouting to explain that no, he wasn't dead, and yes, he really was Merlin and that would really have taken away from the strength of his rant.

The next ten years had been relatively quiet. Merlin had never really felt settled even as the wizarding world moved on. He knew that Voldemort was still alive and a little digging had allowed him to discover just how Riddle had managed to cheat death. On top of that, the balance still wasn't quite right because he hadn't died when he rightfully should have. Unfortunately, the imbalance hadn't been large enough to allow the warlock to act. Merlin had contented himself with watching over Harry and helping the boy when he could. Usually that meant nudging Vernon Dursley's mind so that he forgot about something magical that Harry had done or magicking the door of Harry's cupboard open so he could sneak out for food. It hadn't been much, but it was more than he'd been able to do in quite some time.

Once Harry had gone to Hogwarts, Merlin had had to be a bit more on his toes. Harry had a knack for attracting trouble and getting himself into danger in an attempt to help people that reminded Merlin strongly of Arthur. It was something Merlin could sympathize with. He'd tried not to help too much as Harry did need to come into his own, but that didn't mean Merlin had completely backed off. He'd still kept a very close eye on Harry. The Old Religion had recoiled angrily every time Voldemort had managed to find some way to attack. Slowly, but surely, the balance of life and death had tipped further, giving Merlin a little more freedom to act.

Over the past year, it had only gotten worse. The Old Magic had been rippling in a way that Merlin hadn't felt in centuries. He'd spent most of year trying to track down the source of the disturbance rather than keeping as close an eye on Harry as Merlin would have liked. It looked like he'd finally found it. He really shouldn't be surprised that Voldemort was behind it again.

With the shielding around his mind firmly in place once more, Merlin clambered to his feet. He still felt a bit dizzy and was stumbling slightly as he made his way across the small room to a basin of water he carried with him wherever he went. It contained water from the Lake of Avalon, which allowed him to scry more accurately than anything else he'd ever come across. Waving his hand over the basin, Merlin whispered a spell in the tongue of the Old Religion. The water went dark and an image appeared. Merlin frowned. He'd expected to see Hogwarts, not this. There was a possibility that he'd gotten the spell wrong, but he doubted it.

He was looking at a graveyard. A dozen black robed figures stood in a circle around a large cauldron and two other figures. The smaller of the two was favoring one leg, clutching his wand in his trembling hand. After fifteen years of watching over him, Merlin would know that figure anywhere. It was Harry. Merlin found himself wishing that he'd gotten the spell wrong, especially when realized just whom Harry was facing.

"Voldemort!" he hissed. "How the bloody hell did he manage to get his body back?"

Merlin muttered another spell under his breath and the scene wound back to just a few moments before he'd felt the ripple in magic. Being able to manipulate time was something he would never cease to be grateful for, no matter how difficult it could be. Merlin watched in absolute horror as Wormtail intoned a spell that made his skin crawl.

"Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy," Merlin repeated slowly. He'd heard something like that before. "That's Old Magic. He actually succeeding in finding a spell that he could use. It's no wonder I felt that. How in Avalon's name did I not see this before?"

It was only then that Merlin realized just want the ripple had meant. The balance of life and death had been thrown from the precious position it had been in since Voldemort hadn't truly died on that Halloween night. It was even more out of balance than it had been when he first started taking steps to ensure his immortality. The balance had finally tipped so far that something had to be done to right it. As a warlock of the Old Religion, the only warlock of the Old Religion left, Merlin was the only one who could.

With a snap of his fingers Merlin terminated the scrying spell. If he was going to re-enter the wizarding world, he had some work to do. The sooner he could get it done, the better. Summoning his staff from where it had been hidden beneath the bed, Merlin reached within himself and accessed the power he'd left untouched for centuries. He could feel his eyes glow gold as the room disappeared.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to abate the headache that was pounding behind his eyes. The situation couldn't get much worse. It had been weeks since the Triwazard Tournament and Fudge still refused to believe that Voldemort was back. He was using the Daily Prophet for a smear campaign against both Dumbledore and Harry so that no one else would believe wither. The Order wasn't making much headway as they were meeting resistance at every turn and he still couldn't find a Defense instructor. Things were truly a mess.

Sighing, the headmaster picked up one of the many pieces of parchment that littered his desk – a request for new brooms for the flying classes – and set to the calming work of running Hogwarts.

He'd barely gotten through more than a few words when a whirlwind suddenly sprang to life in the center of his office. Papers and lightweight objects went flying. The whirlwind disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving a young man in its wake. He was wearing a long sleeved red shirt, a brown jacket, a blue scarf, and a sheepish expression.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, noticing the mess that surrounded him. "I forgot what a mess that spell usually makes."

"That's quite all right," Dumbledore said calmly, despite being rather alarmed. "Though I must ask how it is that you were able to pass through the wards without breaking them and without alerting me."

If anything, the young man looked even more sheepish. "It wasn't really that difficult," he said. "Which is not to say that they aren't some good wards, because they are. They're actually quite powerful. I simply have quite a bit of experience with far more powerful wards and, frankly, yours aren't any challenge for someone who is versed in Old Magic."

"Old Magic?" repeated Dumbledore, raising one eyebrow.

"Druidic magics," the young man clarified. "The spells and enchantments of the ancients."

The headmaster frowned. "That knowledge has been lost for centuries."

"Indeed it has," the man said with a cheeky grin. "However, I was first learning of magic when the Old Religion was still being practiced. I have more knowledge of the druidic practices than I do of modern magic."

Silence filled the room as Dumbledore blinked in surprise, trying to process what the young man had said. He leaned forward and folded his hands together, leveling a piercing gaze at the stranger."

"I take it that you employed time travel to learn this," he said coolly. "I am intrigued to know what spells you case in order to travel so far into the past and how you managed to do so without causing irreparable damage to time itself."

To Dumbledore's surprise, the young man laughed. "Nothing quite so clever, I'm afraid. No, I was born over twelve hundred years ago. I suppose that I should have introduced myself. Sorry about that. It has been a while since I've been around people as myself." He walked forward and offered his hand to the dumbfounded headmaster, grinning more broadly than before as he did. "Merlin Emrys, High Warlock of the Old Religion, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, and a myriad other rather important, but now mostly pointless, titles. It's a pleasure to meet you, headmaster."

For the first time in his life, Dumbledore was completely at a loss for what to say or do, so he did the only thing that made sense. He shook Merlin's hand.

"I realize that this is probably a shock," Merlin acknowledged. "I do know that I'm supposed to be dead. There are times that I even wish I was. Watching everyone you ever cared about die is not pleasant, but that's beside the point. Simply but, I am so closely bound to magic itself that it will not allow me to die."

That did make sense. Any witch or wizard who'd paid even the slightest bit of attention to history knew that the Merlin of legend had possessed an almost uncanny connection to magic which had allowed him to understand it and manipulate it on a level that no one had ever before or again accomplished. It was not surprising that there were other side effects to that connection.

"I can give you proof if you need it," Merlin said softly, but without reproach.

Dumbledore bowed his head slightly. "I do not wish to offend you. Unfortunately, as compelling as your argument is, it does seem a little far-fetched."

"A fact I am well aware of," sighed Merlin. He thrust his right hand out to his side. His eyes flashed a brilliant gold and a staff appeared in his hand. The staff was intricately carved with runes. A blue stone at the top of the staff was pulsing with power. But that was nothing compared to the power emanating from Merlin. He seemed almost to glow with it. His eyes were such a brilliant gold, they were painful to look at. Yet, Dumbledore still got the impression that Merlin was holding back.

The headmaster nodded slightly. "I am convinced."

Merlin grinned and the glow faded from his eyes. The staff disappeared and he looked strangely normal without it.

"I must ask, why come forward now?"

The warlock abruptly looked tired. He conjured a chair and sat down. "It's difficult to explain. I am bound to Old Magic and that means there are certain things that I must protect. For the past fifty years, ever since Tom Riddle created a certain diary, the balance between life and death has been teetering dangerously. A decade and a half ago, it was very close to becoming so out of balance that I would have had to intervene. Then Voldemort died, or nearly did, and the balance was mostly restored."

He paused and Dumbledore nodded to show that he understood. When it came to the Old Magics, balance was the key. That the headmaster knew. If the balance was upset, the effects could be catastrophic to magic as whole.

"I take it that the balance has been destroyed now that Voldemort has truly returned," Dumbledore concluded.

"He's deliberately defying death and he's doing so by using ancient magic," Merlin said. "For the past twelve centuries, I could do little more than very indirectly effect events. I was mostly bound to inaction so that the world could move forward. As the only living practitioner of the Old Religion, I must now step forward and right the balance. To be honest, it would have fallen to me even in the days of Camelot and I won't deny that I'm thankful for a reason to actually do something. I was not made to watch as others fight."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "I must say that I am not surprised that Tom dabbled in Old Magic. I am most troubled that he managed to learn so much."

"He actually learned very little," Merlin said with a shrug. "What he did learn is a version of magic that has been twisted by time. That is what makes it so dangerous. He is tampering with things he can't even begin to understand."

"What exactly do you plan to do?" Dumbledore inquired. "You are thought to be dead, after all."

Merlin chuckled under his breath before answering. "I was hoping to pose as a student. Harry will be Voldemort's main target and I would like to be close to him. Something tells me that helping Harry will be the best way to fix this."

"You do not look young enough to be a student," Dumbledore pointed out. "However, I do think that we can pass you off as a young man who was traveling with his parents until their deaths and did not receive an adequate education. It might also be wise to claim that you battled illness as a child and were forced to begin your education late. Though I fear, you may be ridiculed for that."

"Nothing that I have not heard before," Merlin shrugged

"Indeed. I take it you would also like to be apart of Order meetings?"

Merlin suppressed a small smile, obviously not surprised that Dumbledore had assumed that he knew about the Order. "I would rather just be kept up to date. It would be suspicious if a wizard still in school, despite being overage, is part of the Order."

"Very good," the headmaster said in agreement. "How would it be best to contact you?"

To the headmaster's surprise, Fawkes suddenly soared across the room and landed on Merlin's shoulder. The phoenix gently nuzzled his cheek, letting out a quiet, melodic croon.

"I believe we have our answer," Dumbledore said with an amused smile.

Fawkes dipped his head in agreement before fluttering back to his stand.

The two wizards spent the next several hours discussing the various logistics of turning the great Merlin Emrys into Hogwarts student Myrddin Lyonnesse. Albus had given him a list of all the books used through fifth year so that he would be able to more easily pretend to be a student, as well as a bit of a crash course in modern wizarding practices. It appeared that watching the wizarding world wasn't quite enough for him to be able to completely blend in, but Merlin was certain it would be fairly easy to pick up.

It was late by the time Merlin rose to leave the headmaster's office. But before he did, he gave Albus one last piece of advice. "You should tell Harry of the prophecy. This year will be pivotal for him and for all of us. Gaining his trust will be paramount. If he has to search for the answers himself because you would rather him go into this blind, you will lose it."

With another whirlwind, the ancient warlock who looked barely older than a boy disappeared, leaving Albus Dumbledore with a lot to think about.

* * *

Upon returning to his home, Merlin waved his hand once, packing all of his belongings into a large trunk that was sitting against the wall. He wasn't that disappointed to be leaving. Despite the years he had spent there, it hadn't been home.

A small, winged figure came soaring out of the bedroom and alighted on his shoulder, just where Fawkes had been not too long before.

"Are you sure of this course of action?" a familiar, ancient voice inquired.

Merlin nodded. "I'm sure, Kilgharrah," he murmured. "There's no other choice. Harry is going to need all the support and help he can get in the coming days. His friends are strong, and will stand beside him. But they have no concept of what they are truly facing. None of them are aware of just how dangerous this is. They need someone to look after them. Besides, I would much rather be in the thick of things. I missed too much the last time because I was detached from the situation. I will not allow that to happen again."

The great dragon, once so much larger than he was now, but no less wise, let out a quiet sigh. "You are correct, young warlock. But be wary. Though your magic is old and powerful, such as no one else on this earth, Voldemort is cunning and his malevolence knows no equal. Do not underestimate him."

"I won't," Merlin vowed. "Too many lives are at stake here."

Kilgharrah chuckled. "You have grown much since first I met you. It has been an honor to be your companion over the centuries."

"I could say the same," Merlin said with a small grin. "Will you accompany me to Hogwarts? It will be a simple matter to cast a glamor so that you appear to be a cat, or some other manner of common creature."

"Must you really ask?" Kilgharrah demanded, sounding just the slightest bit affronted.

Merlin let out quiet laugh. "I thought it better to ask than to assume." He snapped his fingers and the trunk transformed into a leather bracelet that he bound around his wrist.

"What exactly are your plans for the rest of the summer?" Kilgharrah asked. "Surely you don't intend to do nothing."

"Of course not," Merlin scoffed. "I plan on keeping an eye on Harry. He is most vulnerable during the summer months when he is not at school, amongst other sorcerers."

With that, he snapped his fingers and the two remaining remnants of an ancient time found themselves standing on the corner of thoroughly modern and thoroughly anti-magic Privet Drive.

The adventure had finally begun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I’m so glad that this crossover’s been so well received! I had a question about why Kilgharrah’s small in one of my reviews. It’s explained in this chapter, but I wanted to apologize for the confusion. I wrote the prologue at least half a dozen times before I got it right, and I didn’t realize that I’d left out that explanation.

So far, the summer had been boring. Unbearably hot, but boring. Still, Merlin would much rather be hot and bored than chasing down death eaters and dark creatures that were hell bent on killing Harry for Voldemort.

Dumbledore seemed to have taken Merlin's advice. It wasn't even mid July and Harry would be headed to the Order of the Phoenix in a matter of days. The blood wards had had plenty of time to reset for the year. They would have moved Harry sooner if there had been more Order members free. Of course, Merlin could do it on his own, but that was a last minute resort.

Harry's friends had also been in constant contact with him. From what Dumbledore had said, they'd been careful not to give anything away. Knowing that there would be enough in the letters to make Harry feel as if he was purposefully being left out, Merlin had told Dumbledore to at least send the boy a letter telling him that as soon as he left Privet Drive, everything would be explained. Again, the Headmaster had listened. Harry had been a bit frustrated and impatient, but he didn't seem like he was about to lose his mind.

Currently, Merlin was standing in the shadows watching Harry deal with his oaf of a cousin. Kilgharrah was draped across his shoulders, his eyes glinting in the darkness. If the two ancients had learned anything over the past weeks, it was that Dudley Dursley was a horrible excuse for a human being. The dragon had taken great pleasure in cloaking himself as all great dragons could and taunting the lump of lard. His diminished size helped as well, despite the fact that it was a sore subject. When the more animalistic dragon breeds had been discovered, Kilgharrah had been attacked regularly because the wizarding world had forgotten about the existence of intelligent dragons of Old Magic. He and Merlin together had created the spell that made him smaller, so that he could be safe, but that didn't mean he liked it.

They followed the two boys as they left  _the_  park to return to Privet Drive. Merlin kept close. He'd become quite adepts at recognizing the calm before the storm. He was positive that it wouldn't be much longer before things went to hell.

The two boys turned down an alley that Merlin knew to be a shortcut to their home. Merlin waited a beat before making to follow. He stopped short when a strange chill suddenly permeated the hot summer air. Kilgharrah let out a hiss as a cloaked figure descended from the sky and followed the two boys into the alley.

"Dementor," the dragon spat angrily.

Letting out an ancient, and particularly foul, curse, Merlin hurried forward. The dragon leapt into the air, knowing that the warlock would need to be able to maneuver and ready to give an assistance he could. The warlock summoned his staff and transformed it into a wand. He wouldn't be able to stay hidden after this and if he ran into the alley, using magic like he did in Camelot, it would be obvious that he was hiding something.

Merlin skidded into the alleyway, wand at the ready. What he saw caused his blood to freeze. Harry was on all fours, searching for his wand in the darkness. His cousin was collapsed not far away. The dementor Merlin and Kilgharrah had seen was advancing on Harry, while a second was bent over his cousin. Without hesitating, Merlin whispered, " _Feorhhyrde ascufan deapscuan._ "

A silver light, not that different from a patronus, shot out of his wand and engulfed the dementor. The creature let out a scream and disintegrated. In the light of the spell, Harry found his wand. He whipped around and a silver stag appeared, charging the second dementor and driving it away.

The cold dissipated as if it had never been there. Merlin shoved his wand into his pocket before hurrying over to Dudley. He could sense easily enough that the boy's soul was intact, but he wanted to be sure that there hadn't been any other damage.

Dementors were among the foulest creature he had ever encountered in his centuries of living. Even he wasn't entirely sure how they had come to be, but they had somehow evolved from the same kinds of spirits that had spilled into Camelot when Morgana opened the rift between life and death. In response to the dementors, he'd created a spell that would destroy them as well as the current Patronus charm, since most wizards wouldn't even be able to attempt the old magic he used to destroy the creatures.

They had once been rather rare. He'd spent a lot of time tracking them down and destroying them. Once the wizarding world had become aware of them, he'd been unable to continue that mission. One of the few times he'd actually been active in society was when the ministry decided to station dementors at Azkaban. He had not been happy about that, especially because he was well aware of what the dementors could do to a person, even if they did not consume the soul.

Muttering words under his breath, Merlin made sure that Dudley hadn't been harmed, beyond the shock of having to relive his worst memories. The boy was fine, just panicking.

"Who are you?" a shaking voice demanded.

Merlin looked up to see a wand a foot from his face. It was being held by Harry, who was looking decidedly wary. Standing slowly, Merlin offered Harry his hand.

"I'm Myrddin Lyonnesse," he said. "I'm new to the area and was out exploring when I sensed the dementors. You're Harry Potter, right? Professor Dumbledore said I might run into you."

"You know Dumbledore?" Harry asked warily.

Retracting his hand seeing as Harry obviously wasn't ready to trust just yet, Merlin nodded. "I contracted a rare disease when I was young. It left me too weak to attend school and really learn magic, though my mother did tutor me. My parents passed away not long ago. Apparently they were old friends. I'm starting Hogwarts in the fall and Professor Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea for me to spend some time getting used to people again, so I'm staying with Mrs. Figg."

"Mrs. Figg knows Dumbledore?" Harry's wand lowered just slightly as he spoke.

Again, Merlin nodded. Dumbledore had given him permission to reveal certain things if he had to meet Harry. "She's a squib. She volunteered to take me in."

Harry didn't look entirely convinced, but he decided to let the matter drop in favor of another. "You look a bit old to be going to Hogwarts," he pointed out.

"I know," Merlin said in slight embarrassment. "My parents weren't exactly concerned with teaching me magic. I'm a bit behind. I'll be starting my fifth year. To be honest, I think Dumbledore actually wanted us to meet."

"That sounds like him," Harry muttered, finally lowering his wand completely. "Is Dudley all right?"

"I think he's just in shock. That was a really impressive patronus, by the way," he added.

Harry snorted. "That's nothing compared to what you did. What exactly did you do? That dementor just exploded."

"I'm not sure," Merlin lied easily. "I've never done anything like that before. We should probably get him home before we attract attention."

He pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped Dudley lightly. "Featherweight charm," he explained in answer to Harry's enquiring glance. "I'm overage, so I can use magic outside of school without any problems. My parents made sure that I know enough to get by. Besides, I really don't fancy dragging him all the way back to your house. He looks like he weighs as much as a small hippo."

Harry let out a quiet laugh. The two of them grabbed Dudley by the arms and hauled him upright. He seemed completely unaware of the way he was being manhandled. Merlin took advantage of the fact that Harry couldn't see him through Dudley to glance up to Kilgharrah, who was circling above.

_Stay out of sight,_  he instructed.  _But stay close in case there are more of those creatures and keep a look out for anyone who may have sent them._

_I will scout ahead to be sure the way is clear,_  said Kilgharrah.  _Well done, young warlock._

Merlin rolled his eyes. Despite the centuries, the dragon refused to stop calling him that. Something about Merlin still being many centuries his junior. It had become a term of endearment rather than an annoyance a long time ago.

The warlock shifted his grip on Dudley as he and Harry made their way out of the alley. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Harry broke the silence.

"Did Dumbledore have you following me?" he asked.

_Yes, but I'm not telling you that._  "All he told me was that I should consider making friends with you if we happened to meet. He seemed to think we had a lot in common."

Harry seemed to accept that answer. It probably had something to do with the fact that Merlin was just the kind of person who was believable. That had come in handy many times during his life.

They made it to Number 4 easily. No one was paying the least bit of attention to a couple of kids who were dragging their apparently drunk mate back to the house. Once they were standing on the front step, Harry ducked out from beneath Dudley's arm and opened the door. Petunia came running.

"Dudley? Is that you? Why were you out so la-" She cut short at the sight of her beloved son, who was practically catatonic.

"Dudders!" she shrieked. "Vernon! Something's wrong with Dudley!"

Harry leapt out of the way as his aunt and uncle barreled down the hallway. Merlin followed his example. The two muggles lead their son into the living room, fussing over him. When he didn't show any response, Vernon rounded on Harry.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

Knowing that the man wouldn't listen to Harry, Merlin stepped forward. "Harry didn't do anything. They were attacked by some very dark creatures. But Harry and I were able to drive him off before they did any damage. Your son is fine. He's just a bit shaken up."

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Vernon demanded.

Merlin fixed a friendly, almost naive smile, on his face and held out his hand. "I'm Myrddin Lyonnesse. I'm new to the area."

"And you're one of those freaks, aren't you?" Vernon sneered. "I know you two did something to Dudley. Tell me what, or I'll call the police!"

The smile fell off Merlin's face. "We didn't touch him. He was attacked. You should be thanking us for saving him. If a wizard hadn't been nearby, your son wouldn't have his soul anymore."

"His soul?" Petunia gasped. She grabbed Dudley by the shoulders and shook him, as though trying to force life back into him. "He still has it, doesn't he?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Myrddin and I were in time to save him," he muttered. "He's completely fine." He dropped his voice to a whisper and added, "Unfortunately." Merlin had to hold back a laugh.

Growing redder by the second, Vernon advanced on Harry and Merlin. "You will get out of my house, now, boy. Your freakishness is the only reason Dudley was attacked and don't even try denying it. I want you out of here before anything else happens to my family."

Before either Harry or Merlin could object, an owl flew in through the window and dropped an envelope on Harry's head. Merlin didn't even have to read it to know that it was from the Improper Use of Magic Office. Despite his presence, the Ministry was going to pin everything on Harry and they were going to use his previous offense - courtesy of Dobby - to expel him, completely discrediting him in the process.

Harry's eyes were widening in horror as he read the letter. With shaking hands, he set it down and collapsed into the nearest chair. Merlin grabbed the letter and read through it quickly for appearances sake.

"It was self defense," he said quickly. "Even underage wizards can use magic in life or death situations. I was there and, as an overage wizard, I can vouch for that. They can't do anything to you."

"They're going to be here any minute to snap wand," Harry snapped. "I'm not going to have time to explain what happened."

Walking over to the Dursley's fireplace, Merlin conjured a fire and pulled a pouch of his pocket. He sprinkled a pinch of the floo powder into the flames and said clearly, "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office."

The flames flared green for a moment, then returned to their usual orange color before turning green again as Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in the fire.

"Mr. Lyonnesse," the headmaster said pleasantly. "Is there a reason for this late night call?"

"There is indeed," Merlin said in a grave voice. "I stumbled across a couple of dementors in Little Whinging as they were attacking Harry. We drove them off easily enough, but Harry is being accused of breaking the statute of secrecy and of using magic as an underaged wizard. There are ministry officials on the way to snap his wand."

Dumbledore frowned deeply, looking more annoyed that Harry had ever seen him. "I'll see what I can do. Hold them off if they get there before you hear from me. If necessary, you know where to go."

Merlin nodded once, knowing that Dumbledore was referring to the fact that Merlin had access to Grimmuald Place, and the headmaster was gone.

"What the hell was that?" Harry demanded. "I thought you said you weren't watching me!"

"I wasn't," Merlin snapped, but he could tell Harry didn't believe him. He was going to have to come up with something to explain why Dumbledore had told him about a safehouse. "Look," he sighed, "my family has always done everything we could to fight dark wizards. It's what my parents were doing until I got sick and it made us targets. It's what I'd like to continue doing. Dumbledore is helping me get a little more experience and catch up on my education before I go off on my own. I swear that's only reason he told me about a safehouse."

Once more, the innate believability that Merlin seemed to possess saved the day. Harry nodded grimly.

"So we just sit here and wait?" he demanded.

"That's about all we can do," Merlin said grimly. "Hopefully, Dumbledore will be able to use his pull at the Ministry to at least give you a chance to explain. If not, we get out of here."  _And then I'll use a little bit of my influence to force some sense into them._

They didn't have to wait long. Another ministry owl appeared minutes later, this time bearing a note that informed Harry that he had a ministry hearing in approximately two weeks time. Another owl followed swiftly after. This one was from Dumbledore, informing Merlin that he had best bring Harry to Order Headquarters as soon as possible.

While Harry went upstairs to pack, Merlin summoned his trunk then advanced on the Dursleys.

"I hope you realize that because of him, your son is still alive," he hissed. "By living here, every summer, he has afforded you protection you can't comprehend. When he returns at the end of school, I expect you to treat him as family rather than an unwelcome piece of trash." He leaned forward and his eyes flashed golden, power beating off of him. "Am I clear?"

The Dursleys nodded frantically, even Dudley snapped out of his stupor enough to react. He muttered a quick spell under his breath to wipe the memory from their minds, but not the message, and knocked them out, just as Harry came downstairs, dragging his trunk behind him.

"How are we getting wherever we're going?" he asked.

Merlin waved his wands at the trunks, shrinking them so that they could fit in his pocket. He offered his arm to Harry. "I'll apparate us a few blocks away and then we'll walk the rest of the way."

As soon as Harry grabbed his arm, Merlin apparated them both away without any warning. He found that that usually made it worse.

He brought them to a dark corner of an alley in London. Harry shook his head, but seemed none the worse for the wear. They waited just long enough for him to catch his breath, then Merlin lead the way out of the alley.

He could sense that Harry was dying to ask questions. The members of the order would have a hell of a time explaining why they had kept him out of the loop. Merlin knew that it was mostly because they couldn't risk any communication getting intercepted. He only hoped that they actually explained things when they got there.

* * *

Harry followed the strange young man who said his name was Myrddin, despite the fact that his head was absolutely spinning. In the course of two hours, he'd been attacked by dementors, discovered that there was another wizard and a squib living in Little Whinging, been expelled from school, been suspended from school, and left the Dursleys' for an unknown safehouse. He wasn't sure what he thought of Myrddin Lyonesse, but the man seemed to know what he was doing and seemed to be trustworthy. There was just something about him.

They'd been walking for about ten minutes before Myrddin stopped outside a nondescript row of houses in one of worse neighborhoods of London. He dug in his pocket for a moment before producing a piece of parchment.

"Read this," he instructed. "Then concentrate on what it says."

Thoroughly confused, Harry did just that. He recognized Dumbledore's handwriting immediately.

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix maybe found at Number Twelve, Grimmuald Place, London._

Raising his eyebrow, Harry began to ask Myrddin what that meant, but the other man held his hand up, and read the note himself, before lighting the parchment on fire, only confusing Harry further.

"Focus on what it said," Myrddin said, grinning slightly at his confusion.

Harry did just that, unable to think of anything else to do. To his complete surprise, Numbers Elven and Thirteen began moving apart, another building appearing between them, just seconds after he began concentrating on what the parchment had said. The muggles living inside the other two buildings didn't even notice. Harry's mouth fell open.

Chuckling, Myrddin grabbed his arm and towed him forward quickly.

"Keep quiet," he advised. "It's for your own good."

"What?" Harry stammered.

"I'll explain in a minute," Myrddin said dismissively. "First we need to get inside."

Still dragging Harry along, Myrddin hurried up the steps, opened the door, and pulled Harry inside. They were expected. A tall man, with shoulder-length black hair was standing in the middle of the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, and a smile playing across his lips.

"Sirius!" Harry gasped.

The smile on his godfather's face broadened, even as he motioned for Harry to keep his voice down before waving him forward. Harry eagerly followed him through a door to their left, Myrddin trailing behind him.

The trio entered a large kitchen filled with several familiar figures. Remus Lupin was seated at the table, deep in discussion with Arthur Weasley. Behind them, Molly Weasley was in the midst of cooking something with the aid of her youngest son, Ron, and Hermione Granger. Everyone looked at the door the moment Harry, Sirius, and Myrddin entered. Ron and Hermione stopped what they were doing to greet Harry.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, running across the room and flinging her arms around his neck. "Are you all right? Professor Dumbledore told us about the attack. I can't believe there were dementors in Little Whinging!"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her awkwardly, gently prying her arms from his neck. "Just a bit shaky."

She appraised him carefully, her eyes narrowing. "Have you even had some chocolate?"

"We were in a bit of hurry," Myrddin supplied. "I didn't have time to go through the Dursleys' cupboards looking for some."

Suddenly, all attention shifted from Harry to the stranger. It seemed that Harry wasn't the only one who had know idea who the man was. Myrddin shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said politely, rising from his chair and offering Myrddin a hand. "We haven't met. I'm Remus Lupin."

"Myrddin Lyonnesse."

Lupin's eyes widened in comprehension, as did Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's.

"You're the new student Dumbledore told us about a few weeks ago, aren't you?" Lupin asked.

Myrddin nodded.

"Would someone care to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked suddenly. The realization that he was so completely out of the loop was not a pleasant one.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and lead him to the table. "This is my parents' old house," he explained. "We're using it as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, an organization Dumbledore founded during the last war to fight Voldemort. He called us all together again shortly after the Third Task. We've been working to inform everyone of Voldemort's return and we've been trying to stop him."

Before he could demand to know why he hadn't been told or allowed to help, Ron cut him off.

"I know you're probably angry that you weren't invited," he said quickly. "But it was for a good reason, mate. Dumbledore told us that there was some kind of protection that had to be renewed at Privet Drive and the only way for you to do that was to stay there for a while. We all wanted to tell you, but we couldn't show up at your Aunt and Uncle's place without drawing attention to you and it was too dangerous to tell you all of this in an owl."

"Ron and I haven't even been in the meetings," Hermione added quickly. "We're too young. It's just that this is one of the safest places for us. Dumbledore was going to send someone to get you in just a few days before this happened."

Harry sat back, frowning slightly. He was still annoyed that he'd been left out, but it made sense. The letter he'd gotten from Dumbledore a week into the holiday had been cryptic to say the least. Harry may not like it, but he could understand why they hadn't been able to risk telling him anything.

Sirius leaned forward to get Harry's attention and said softly, "If it had been up to me, you'd have been here a lot sooner. But with Voldemort more keen to kill you than anyone except maybe Dumbledore, it was too risky."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Will I be able to help now?"

The adults shared a look. This time, Lupin was the one who answered. "Unfortunately, no." He raised a hand to stay Harry's objections. "We all realize that you've fought Voldemort and are more than capable of handling yourself. However, you are still underage. What we are doing is more delicate than simply fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. You need to remain in school to prepare yourself for whatever may happen. You cannot do that if you are part of the Order."

Again, Harry was left feeling unhappy, but realized that they were right.

"We'll tell you everything we can," Sirius assured him. "But there are some things that you just aren't ready to hear yet."

Molly Weasley did not look happy. "Be sure that you don't tell him too much, Sirius. He's still just a child."

Sirius stiffened and glared at her, a retort forming on his lips, but Lupin quieted him with a look that clearly stated this was an argument they had had many times.

Movement out of the corner of his eye reminded Harry of the stranger who had brought him to Grimmuald Place. He turned to glare at Myrddin. "Are you part of the Order, too?" he demanded.

Mryddin shook his head. "No. But I asked to be after my parents died. When Dumbledore realized that I'd never had any formal education and was far behind in my spell casting, he offered to allow me to go to Hogwarts. Once I graduate, I'll be able to join the Order. He gave me the location in case something happened." His eyes flickered from Harry to Sirius. "Is there some place I could stay until classes start?" he asked.

Molly Weasley flew into action and before Harry knew it, he, Ron, Hermione, and Myrddin were being shown upstairs to bedrooms. Myrddin returned his trunk, unshrinking in the process, and bid them all goodnight before disappearing into his own room.

"He's a bit weird, isn't he?" Ron asked. "How'd you meet him?"

Harry snorted. "He helped drive off the dementors. He actually destroyed one."

"That's supposed to be impossible," Hermione said skeptically.

"I just know what I saw," Harry protested. "The dementor was bathed in silver light, like a patronus, but instead of being driven off, it just exploded."

Hermione frowned. "I think we may need to keep any eye on him," she said softly.

Ron and Harry nodded in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry tuned out Mr. Weasley’s prattling. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting about regurgitating toilets when his future hung in the balance. Still, he appreciated the gesture. 

 

Across the cluttered office, Myrddin was sitting in the chair that usually belonged to Perkins, Mr. Weasley’s partner. He looked unconcerned. His lean figured was stretched out comfortably in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. The only sign that he was as anxious as Harry, was the slight frown that graced his face and the look of intense concentration in his eyes. 

 

Over the past few days, Harry had gotten a good chance to get to know the strange man who’d saved him. He was actually a really nice guy who almost perpetually had a smile on his face. Myrddin was usually up before anyone else, helping Mrs. Weasley with the breakfast. The motherly woman got as much enjoyment forcing food on him as she did with Harry himself. She was constantly complaining that they were both too skinny and pale. Myrddin good naturedly complained that he’d always been skinny and pale, no matter how much he ate, but she didn’t listen. 

 

Perhaps what had most endeared him to Mrs. Weasley was the fact that Myrddin helped with decontaminating the house. Harry got the impression that he’d done that kind of thing before. It was the only reason that Myrddin could have dealt with some of the creatures and spells they’d come across. 

 

His crowning achievement in gaining the respect and trust of the Order had come after Tonks, a young auror and cousin of Sirius’, had stopped by. She’d tripped over the troll leg umbrella stand. The loud crash of the stand hitting the ground coupled with her loud curses had brought the entire Order running and told Harry exactly why he’d been shushed that first night. 

 

The noise had roused a painting that had been hidden behind a pair of moth-eaten curtains. The occupant of the painting, an old woman with yellowing skin, had screamed bloody murder. Sirius, with the help of Remus and Mr. Weasley, had forced the curtains closed, silencing the old woman. Harry had been horrified to discover that she was Sirius’ mother. He’d quickly gathered that the entire Order wanted her painting gone, but that they couldn’t remove it because of a Permanent Sticking Charm. Myrddin had quietly suggested that they try vanishing the wall the painting was attached to. There’d been a moment of silence, then, muttering under his breath about how he should have thought of that from the beginning, Sirius had waved his wand at the wall. It had disappeared and the painting had fallen to the floor. Needless to say, burning the painting had been turned into a bit of a party. 

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still a bit wary of the man. Harry in particular had the feeling that there was something he was hiding, but they’d decided that he was someone they could trust. 

 

The door to Mr. Weasley’s office swung open of it’s own according, jolting Harry out of his musings as a kneazle-sized dragon came soaring into the room. The creature’s amber eyes were sparking with clear irritation. Harry and Mr. Weasley leapt up, both of them drawing their wands and directing them toward the flying reptile. Before they could do anything, the dragon landed on Perkins’ desk, perching carefully on a wobbly stack of folders, and leveled his gaze at Myrddin, who glared back at him. 

 

“What are you doing?” Myrddin hissed. 

 

Smoke billowed out of the dragon’s nostrils and it let out an angry hiss. “Our esteemed minister has seen fit to move the time and location of the hearing. You have only a few moments to make it down to courtroom ten.”

 

Harry nearly dropped his wand when the dragon spoke. Judging by the look on Mr. Weasley’s face, he was just as stunned. 

 

Myrddin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

 

“I have my ways, young one,” the dragon said. “Now hurry!”

 

“Are you accompanying us now that you have made your presence known?” Myrddin queried acerbically. 

 

“It would lend you credibility to have me as a familiar,” replied the dragon smugly. Myrddin looked like he was torn between thanking and killing the little lizard. 

 

“What is going on?” Mr. Weasley demanded. “What is that thing?”

 

Myrddin looked resigned. “This is Kilgharrah. He’s a very old, very rare breed of dragon, a direct descendant of the great dragons of the old religion. He is my companion and familiar.”

 

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Harry asked. 

 

“As far as I know, Kilgharrah is one of a kind,” Myrddin explained. “And he’s usually rather private. This is the first time he’s ever revealed himself to anyone save me. I’m sure you have questions, but if he says that the hearing has been moved, then we need to get going.”

 

Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley questioningly. The older man slid his wand back into his pocket and nodded. “Follow me,” he said grimly. 

 

The dragon, Kilgharrah, leapt onto Myrddin’s shoulder and draped himself across the man’s neck. Myrddin shot Harry an apologetic look. Harry nodded and the two of the followed Mr. Weasley out of the office. Suddenly, he felt very nervous. 

 

***

 

_What the bloody hell were you thinking?_ Merlin demanded. _Do you have any idea how hard I’ve had to work to gain their trust, especially Harry’s? They already think that I was spying on Harry!”_

__

_You were,_ Kilgharrah pointed out unnecessarily. 

 

_I know that,_ the warlock snapped. _But it isn’t yet time for them to know that. I need them to trust me so that I can protect them. Having a bloody talking dragon randomly appear with information about a very sensitive topic is not going to help my credibility._

__

_Would you have rather I said nothing?_

__

_Did I say that? Obviously we needed to know that. But why did you not simply contact me as we are speaking now?_

__

_There was no guarantee that you would have heard me. I could not risk it, not when Harry’s future and the future of the wizarding world is at stake._

__

Merlin pursed his lips, but couldn’t fail to admit that Kilgharrah had a point. He just wished that he’d had a little more warning. More questions would be coming when they returned to Order headquarters. It was going to take some very careful tap dancing to explain Kilgharrah’s presence without blowing his cover completely. 

 

He pushed those thought from his mind and focused on following Mr. Weasley through the Ministry. It wouldn’t do to show that he knew his way around the maze-like building because he’d been there when it had first been constructed. 

 

They reached the courtroom with just moments to spare. Panting slightly, Mr. Weasley turned to the two young men. “I can’t go in,” he said. “But I’ll be right here when you come out and the headmaster should be waiting inside.” He put a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he assured the boy. 

 

Merlin gently steered Harry into the stone room. It took all of his experience in keeping a straight face when lying to Arthur not to glower and growl in anger. The entire Wizengamot was present. The minister had overstepped his bounds with that. Even more serious breaches of the Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardy were dealt with by the depart of magical law enforcement, not the ministry and the Wizengamot. It was probably a good thing that Kilgharrah was draped around his shoulders or Merlin would be sorely tempted to unleash some of his more creative magics. 

 

“You’re late,” Fudge said coldly. 

 

“I didn’t know the hearing had been moved!” protested Harry. 

 

Fudge sneered. “That is not the fault of the Wizengamot. You were informed. Take your seat.”

 

He gave Harry a comforting look and pushed him toward the chair in the center of the room before making his way to the witnesses benches. Making sure that his back was turned to the court so that they couldn’t see his eyes and broke the charms on the chair that animated the chains. There was no way in hell that Merlin was going to let that bastard minister tie Harry up like some kind of Death Eater. 

 

Harry had no sooner sat down gingerly when the doors opened again and Albus Dumbledore swept in. The old man was smiling genially, but Merlin could see that his eyes were glinting with anger. 

 

“Dumbledore,” Fudge said stiffly. “You made it. We were afraid that the owl wouldn’t reach you in time.”

 

“Owl?” asked the headmaster pleasantly. “I’m afraid I received no owl. Due to a lucky mistake, I arrived five hours early and no harm was done.” He conjured a squishy, comfortable looking armchair and sat down. “Shall we begin?”

 

Fudge scowled. “Right.” 

 

Merlin tuned out the legal jargon that preceded the actual trial and carefully observed the Wizengamot. To Fudge’s left sat a square-jawed professional looking woman who Merlin knew to be Madam Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was the woman who should have been conducting the hearing alone. Just by looking at her, Merlin could tell that she wasn’t happy about the turn of events. From his observations of her during the first war and during the weeks before the hearing, Merlin had seen that she was a fair woman who would have listened to Harry’s side of the story impartially. 

 

To Fudge’s other side was a toad-like witch. Just the look of her was enough to set Merlin’s skin crawling. He hadn’t seen her much in his spying, but he had seen that she was blindly loyal to Fudge. 

 

The sight of the young man sitting at the end of the row made Merlin frown. He couldn’t believe that Percy Weasley had turned his back on his family. Regardless of political opinions, family should always stick together. It had worked for the knights, who’d always considered themselves brothers, regardless of the fact that none of them had actually been family. 

 

“You are Harry James Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, correct?” Fudge snapped, sending Harry a glare over his papers. 

 

“Yes,” Harry said, almost nervously. 

 

“And your received an official warning for the use of illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”

 

“Well, yes, but--”

 

“Yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” 

 

“Yes, but--”

 

“Knowing that, as underage wizard, such magic is not permitted?”

 

“Yes, but--”

 

“Knowing that you were in an area inhabited by Muggles?”

 

“Yes, but--”

 

“In the presence of a Muggle at the time?”

 

“Perhaps, it would be prudent to allow Mr. Potter to fully answer your questions before continuing on?” Dumbledore suggest smoothly, overriding Harry’s annoyed answer. 

 

“That does seem wise,” said Madam Bones. Merlin was pleased to see that she was shooting Fudge a very disgruntled glare. Clearly, she didn’t approve of his handling of the case. 

 

Fudge nodded reluctantly and Madam Bones turned to Harry. “Would you care to explain the circumstances under which you received your first official warning, Mr. Potter?”

 

“A house elf appeared in my bedroom,” Harry said quickly so as not to be overridden again. “Dobby was trying to protect me because he thought something was going to happen at Hogwarts. When I wouldn’t agree, he levitated a pudding and smashed it on my Uncle’s business associates to get me in trouble.”

 

“Do you really expect us to believe that a house elf used magic in your home to protect you?” Fudge scoffed. 

 

“The house elf in question is employed at Hogwarts, if you wish to question him,” said Dumbledore. “It is my understanding that Dobby heard his masters discussing Mr. Potter and misinterpreted their meaning.”

 

_That was well done,_ Kilgharrah commented. 

 

Merlin had to agree. That had been the perfect way to handle the delicate situation that surrounded Dobby’s appearance in Harry’s life. Dumbledore couldn’t accuse Lucius Malfoy of opening the Chamber of Secrets by putting the Diary in the hands of a Hogwarts student. But everyone knew that the Malfoys didn’t like Harry. The idea that their house elf had heard one of them idly threatening Harry was easily believable. 

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Madam Bones said. “Your word is good enough for me, Headmaster. I will see to it that the incident is wiped from your record, Mr. Potter, regardless of the outcome of this hearing. Shall we move on to the events of August the second? Having received an unfair warning from the Ministry, why is it that you performed underage magic in a Muggle neighborhood?”

 

Harry glared at Fudge before saying clearly, “My cousin and I were attacked by dementors. I conjured a patronus to drive one off after Myrddin Lyonnesse showed up to take care of the one that was about to kiss me.”

 

Merlin thought that Madam Bones’ monocle was going to fall off her face. “A fully corporeal Patronus?”

 

Harry nodded. 

 

“You mean that it was more than smoke a vapor?”

 

“It was a stag. It’s always a stag,” Harry said in confusion. 

 

“What do you mean? Is this not the first time you conjured one?”

 

“I’ve been able to do it ever since third year when Professor Lupin taught me--”

 

“Impressive,” Madam Bones said, gazing at him carefully. “A true Patronus at your age is...very impressive indeed.”

 

“It’s not a question of how impressive the magic is,” Fudge snapped. “If anything, the more impressive the magic is, the more severe the crime is. The boy conjured it in full view of a Muggle!”

 

Harry finally lost his temper. “I conjured it in front of my cousin, who’s known about magic since Hagrid gave my Hogwarts letter five years ago!” he snapped. “Aunt Petunia is my mother’s sister, for Merlin’s sake! They’ve known about magic since before I did! And I only conjured the Patronus because of the dementors, which I already told you!”

 

Merlin almost choked when Harry used his name. In all the years wizards had been doing that, he still hadn’t gotten used to that. When the young man finished his testimony, Merlin saw that Madam Bones was glaring at Fudge. She’d obviously been unaware of the fact that Harry had used magic in the presence of his family. Muggleborns were permitted to use magic in front of their family, and Harry had been raised a muggleborn. 

 

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to use the Statue of Secrecy to crucify Harry, Fudge changed tactics. “Is there even any proof that there was a dementor, in Little Whinging of all places?”

 

“Indeed there is,” said Dumbledore. “In fact, he is here right now.”

 

That was his cue. Merlin stood and walked to the center of the courtroom. The headmaster conjured him a chair. He noticed that he was getting several odd looks from the court. They were all directed at the dragon still draped over his shoulders. 

 

“Your name?” Fudge inquired. 

 

“Myrddin Gaius Lyonnesse,” Merlin replied, biting back a grin at the references to his true identity. 

 

Bones glanced at some papers in front of her. “We have no record of any other wizards living in Little Whinging. How is that you came to be there?”

 

He quickly recounted his tale of illness, explaining how his parents, who’d been vigorous supporters of the light, had been killed and how he’d contacted Albus Dumbledore in order to do something. 

 

“Unfortunately, due to my prolonged illness and our constant travelling, my parents were rather lax in their attempts to educate me adequately,” he finished. “The headmaster suggested that I attend Hogwarts in the fall and arranged for me to stay with Ms. Arabella Figg, who happens to be a squib, so you would have no record of her. I had only been there two days when the incident we are discussing occurred.”

 

Fudge waved his wand, summoning some parchments. He glanced at them briefly before glaring at Merlin and practically snarling, “There is no record of your illness at St. Mungo’s.”

 

“There wouldn’t be,” Merlin said. “I was born overseas. We were in India when I contracted the illness. To this day we’re not entirely sure what it was. I was never conclusively diagnosed. If you wish, I could swear under veritaserum,” he offered. 

 

“That will be unnecessary,” Madam Bones assured him, before Fudge could respond.

 

The minister glared at her, before asking Merlin to continue with his testimony. The warlock quickly told his side of the tale, omitting the detail that he’d actually destroyed the dementor about to go after Harry and that they’d gone to Grimmuald Place afterward. Instead, he said that they’d gone to the Burrow.

 

“That is impossible!” Fudge roared when Merlin finished. “What are the odds that dementors would stumble across the only wizard within twenty square kilometers?”

 

“Rather slim,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Which is why it seems clear to me that they were sent there.”

 

“All dementors are under ministry control,” the minister snapped. 

 

“Then perhaps they were taking orders from someone other than the ministry. You know my opinion of this,” Dumbledore said. 

 

“We do not need to hear this bilge once more,” said Fudge in annoyance. 

 

“It seems,” said Merlin, “we must consider why someone from within the ministry ordered a pair of dementors into Little Whinging”

 

The toad-like witch leaned forward, a saccharine smile on her face. She fixed Merlin with a falsely sweet smile. “Excuse me,” she said in a high-pitched voice that was more suited to an eight year old than a grown woman, “it’s so silly of me, but I thought, just for one teensy moment, that you were suggesting that someone within the Ministry ordered an attack on Mr. Potter!”

 

She let out a silvery laugh that reminded Merlin distinctly of Morgana in it’s false sincerity. He regarded her coolly. 

 

“If the dementors are under the control of the Ministry, then that means one of two things,” he said. “Either you have two rogue dementors roaming through Britain, or someone within the Ministry is using them for their own ends. Either way, you have some investigating to do.”

 

Fudge turned red. “You have no authority to tell the Ministry what to do!” he snarled. 

 

“I wouldn’t presume to,” Merlin said. “I’m simply stating that I was confident that you would be looking into it for the protection of the people you represent.”

 

He caught Madam Bones’ gaze. She frowned slightly, enough to tell him that she was going to look into it.

 

“Hem hem.”

 

Merlin nearly laughed out loud, but managed to keep a straight face when he looked to the toad-like woman.

 

“Did you have a question Ms...I’m sorry I don’t know your name, ma’am,” he said politely. 

 

“Dolores Umbridge,” she simpered. “Senior undersecretary to the ministry. Perhaps you could tell me what that creature around your shoulders is?”

 

“This is my familiar, Kilgharrah.”

 

“And what manner of creature is...Killgarrah?”

 

He arched an eyebrow. “What bearing does that have on this hearing?”

 

“I ask simply to determine where your allegiances lie. After all, if you have managed to befriend a dark creature, then perhaps you are not to be trusted.”

 

Killgarrah snarled quietly at that, but the warlock laid a hand on his tail to calm him. “My familiar is the last of the great dragons of Old Magic,” he said clearly. “It is my understanding that he lived for many hundreds of years before coming to me.”

 

“Do you have proof of that?” Madam Bones asked curiously.

 

“His words should be more than sufficient,” Kilgharrah snapped, causing the entire Wizengamot to jump. “I was present during the height of Camelot, when my race was a mighty one. My current size is the result of a spell to protect ourselves after the lesser races of dragons were discovered, but my magic is as strong as ever it was. Need you any more proof?”

 

They shook their heads in the negative. It was well known that only the great dragons had possessed speech. 

 

“As you can see,” the warlock said into the silence, “I am not a Dark wizard. Now that that has been settled, let’s return to the matter at hand.”

 

The trial was relatively straightforward after that. Fudge attempted to demonize Harry by brining up his many rule-breaking escapades in school. Dumbledore easily dealt with that, pointing out that it wasn’t the Ministry’s business what happened at Hogwarts and that Harry was always attempting to protect others. In the end, the Minister had had no choice but to acquiesce. He knew when he’d backed himself into a corner. When Madam Bones called for a vote, the answer was plain. Harry Potter was innocent and his record would be cleared by the next morning. 

 

In the noise created by the departing Wizengamot, Dumbledore stood close to Merlin and whispered, “I was surprised to see Kilgharrah here.”

 

“So was I,” Merlin admitted with a wry smile. “But he is rather unpredictable. At least Umbridge will know not to underestimate me this year.”

 

The headmaster frowned just slightly. “Yes. I am not pleased with the prospect of having her at the school. But there is nothing to be done without completely breaking with the Ministry and we can’t risk that with Voldemort on the rise.”

 

“Agreed. I will keep an eye on her,” Merlin promised. “Good day, Headmaster.”

 

***

 

 

The truth still hadn’t settled in, even though Harry had told everyone about his trial. It felt surreal, knowing that he was cleared. At the moment, however, the attention was no longer focused on him. Everyone was listening to Myrddin as he attempted to explain his familiar. Again.

 

The more Harry learned about Myrddin, the more confused he became. How was it that an under qualified wizard who’s spent most of his adolescence bedridden became familiars with such an ancient and powerful creature? It didn’t make sense. 

 

Especially when one considered the way he’d handled himself. Myrddin had given the impression of being someone who was accustomed to dealing with politics. He hadn’t been intimidated by Fudge, or even Madam Bones, who was actually a bit scary. He’d said all the right things. 

 

Harry pushed the mystery away until he could get a chance to talk to Ron and Hermione just as Sirius heaved a disbelieving sigh and turned to his godson. 

 

“I’m sure this has been an overwhelming day for you, but there are somethings we still need to talk about,” he said. 

 

“Like what?” Harry asked warily. 

 

“A little bit about what the Order is doing,” Sirius said carefully. 

 

“Not everything, mind,” Lupin quickly explained. “That’s too dangerous. But we can’t keep you out of the loop completely, not Voldemort is after you. Understand that we are telling you everything we can,” he said firmly. “We’re trusting that you won’t abuse this trust.”

 

Harry nodded vigorously, as did all the other students sitting at the table, though Mrs. Weasley did not look happy. 

 

“Mostly, Voldemort is attempting to gain followers,” Sirius said. “He’s reaching out to old associates, as well as trying to recruit new ones. He’s also contacting the giants, werewolves--” Remus frowned at that “--and other dark creatures. We’re attempting to recruit them first while alerting the general public to the situation.”

 

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” Moody growled. “Since the Minister is being such an idiot, we can’t go around passing out leaflets.”

 

Sirius nodded in agreement. He laid a gently, fatherly hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is where we can’t tell you everything,” he warned. “So don’t go trying to put the pieces together, for your own safety. Do you understand me?”

 

Harry met his godfather’s eyes and nodded firmly. 

 

“A prophecy was made near the end of the first war,” Dumbledore, who’d been relatively quiet since leaving the ministry, explained. “Voldemort never heard it in its entirety and believes it to concern his downfall. He is rather desperate to get his hands on it. We are trying to prevent that.”

 

Harry knew instinctively that he wasn’t getting any more answer than that. He was glad that he’d gotten as much information as he had. The last thing he wanted to do was press his luck, but there was thing he had to ask. 

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. 

 

“You mean “we,” don’t you Harry?” Hermione said pointedly. 

 

Sirius chuckled. “I know you all want to help, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t go around trying to recruit the other students, not when the Ministry is keeping such a close eye on things. And you can’t leave school. It’s too suspicious. You can help us out by keeping your noses clean and staying out of trouble so that we have one less thing to worry about.”

 

Though that had been the answer Harry expected, he hadn’t thought it would come from his godfather. He knew that Sirius would let him get involved if he could. Of most of the Order, Sirius was one of the few who recognized that Harry had been through things that had forced him to grow up. Sirius didn’t treat him like a fragile little kid. If he was telling Harry to sit back, then that was what he had to do. 

 

“What about us?” Fred asked, gesturing at George. “We’re of age.”

 

“And in school,” Moody snapped. “Which means you act as normal so that you don’t attract attention to yourselves.”

 

“Be glad you’re involved at all,” Molly warned. “If I’d had my say, you wouldn’t have been told anything. You’re too young to be involved in a war.”

 

“They’re involved whether they want to be or not,” said Kingsley. 

 

“And if we tell them what we can, they’re not going to be sneaking around behind our backs, desperate for any idea of what’s going on,” added Tonks. 

 

“They can handle it,” Sirius said. 

 

Molly glared at the animagus. “You’d do well to remember that they are just children and that Harry is not James.”

 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. Where the bloody hell had that come from?

 

“I’m well aware of who he is,” Sirius said cooly. 

 

“Are you sure?” Molly snapped. 

 

Lupin shot a glare at Sirius before turning to Molly and saying in a forcibly calm voice that suggested this was a well worn argument, “We’ve been over this, Molly.”

 

Looking like she was biting back tears, she stormed out of the room, muttering about a boggart they’d discovered in one of the desks. Harry saw Myrddin slip out of the room behind her and couldn’t help but feel thankful. Facing a boggart when distressed, was not advisable. 

 

***

 

While staying in Grimmuald Place, Merlin had fallen into a routine similar to the one he’d kept while serving Arthur. He worked his fingers to the bone from dawn to dusk and could be attacked by something magical at any moment. The difference was that Molly Weasley was a far kinder taskmaster. 

 

However she did have her faults. The most noticeable of which was her tendency to baby her children, particularly Harry whom she’d practically adopted. Since the beginning of the summer, she’d been fighting tooth and nail against telling him anything. Merlin had been glad to find that the other Order members hadn’t backed her. Those that had been hesitant were the ones that were worried that Harry and his friends would take that information and do something stupid. Dumbledore, after talking to Merlin, had convinced them that saying nothing, especially when the children where in the position to hear something, no matter how hard they tried to prevent it, would only drive them toward gathering information on their own. It had been enough to convince everyone except for Molly. 

 

This war was going to be very hard on her if she couldn’t learn to let go. 

 

Merlin slid through the shadows as quickly as possible. By the time he made it to the study with the boggart, Molly was already facing it. She was sobbing on the floor. The boggart had assumed the form of a dead Ron. 

 

“R-r-riddikulus!” she sobbed. 

 

With a crack, the boggart became Arthur. Her sobbing intensified. 

 

“Ridd-dikulus!” 

 

Crack! Dead Harry appeared. 

 

Ignoring the sound of footsteps in the hall, Merlin leapt forward, placing himself between Molly and the boggart. 

 

Crack!

 

The boggart became...himself. The Merlin standing before him was an old man, older than he’d been as Dragoon. His skin was grey and his eyes were lifeless. The image reminded him of the fisher king, of a warlock so far past his time that he had no life left within him, unable to do anything more than watch helplessly as the world marched on around him. 

 

“Riddikulus!” he said calmly. 

 

The boggart-Merlin burst into shreds. 

 

Keeping his face carefully blank, he pushed his way past the stunned members of the Order. That was going to raise some serious questions that he really wasn’t looking forward to answering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the text is taken directly from OotP or is based of existing text from the same book. It is not mine. It was simply so well written that there was no point changing anything. 
> 
> I didn’t get many reviews last chapter. In fact, I think I got one. But I got plenty of alerts. Please, do me the favor of reviewing if you’re going to alert. I’d like to know how I can improve this fic. I’d like to be sure that I’m not getting too AU with this crossover.


	4. Chapter 3

"What was that about?" Tonks asked, watching Myrddin disappear up the stairs.

When Mad-eye had suddenly hurried out of the room as fast as his gimping pace could take him - which was still remarkably quick - the rest of the Order had followed on his heels. They'd arrived in time to see the boggart transform into an old, grey man that bore a slight resemblance to Myrddin.

"I don't know," Mad-eye growled, his electric blue eye obviously following Myrddin up the stairs.

Arthur Weasley pushed through the crowd and hurried to his wife, falling to his knees beside her and wrapping her in an embrace. Her sobs had subsided somewhat, but she was still shaking. Lupin shepherded Harry, Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Ginny out of the room.

"You'd best go to bed," he said softly. "I think Molly needs a moment."

For once, no one argued. Even the twins nodded solemnly and trekked upstairs rather than apparate.

Hermione followed Ron and Hermione into their room.

"What do you think that was?" she asked.

Ron snorted. "Obviously Myrddin is afraid of getting old."

"I don't think so," Harry said slowly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "That was more than him as an old man. He seemed almost...broken, I guess."

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "There was definitely some off about that old man."

"Sounds like another mystery to add to the list," Ron grumbled. "Do we actually know anything about Myrddin?"

"You mean other than the fact that he saved my life, cheerfully does chores and cooks breakfast with your mum, and keeps to himself?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "Then, no. We know absolutely nothing."

"Maybe he's just a private person," Hermione suggested.

Ron glared at her. "We've been through this before, Hermione. It's one thing to be private. Myrddin's completely different. He's hiding something. You've heard him. Half the time he sounds like he's trying not to say something."

"I know," she sighed. "He just seems like such a nice person, I can't think of what he'd want to hide."

"We'll just have to keep an eye on him while we're at school," Harry said decisively. "Do we know what house he's going to be in?"

Ron and Hermione both shook their heads. "No," said Ron. "He hasn't mentioned it. Would be a good thing if he's in Gryffindor?"

"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "But at least we'll be able to keep an eye on him if he is."

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione did their best to keep an eye on Myrddin over the weeks preceding their return to Hogwarts, but he was doing an excellent job of thwarting them. He still came down and helped Mrs. Weasley with breakfast and with the chores, but he didn't join the conversation as he once had. He kept quiet, a strange look on his face. The others seemed to have forgotten all about the form his boggart had taken.

Soon, the chaos of getting ready to return to school drove all thoughts of Myrddin from their minds. September first found Harry lugging his trunk downstairs and trying to avoid Mrs. Weasley, who was not very happy with the twins and likely to shout at anyone who came near her.

Barking happily and adding to the chaos, Padfoot deftly wove through the trunks and people to stand by Harry's side. He wagged his tail happily.

"Sirius, you know Dumbledore said no," Mrs. Weasley snapped. Padfoot just stared at her, his tongue lolling out, tail still wagging, a strangely steely look in his eyes. She pursed her lips. "Well, on your own head be it. COME ON YOU LOT! WE'LL MISS THE TRAIN!"

Harry winced at the sudden shout. He was immensely grateful that Myrddin had gotten rid of the portrait of Mrs. Black. He didn't even want to imagine what the hall would have been like with her shrieks added in.

A rather strange group headed down the street to Kings Cross. Moody, a hat pulled low to cover his magical eye, led the way with Tonks, who'd morphed into an old woman, bringing up the rear. Sirius gamboled about them, barking happily and chasing pigeons. Harry couldn't help but smile at his godfather's antics. Getting cooped up in his room at Privet Drive over the summer was bad enough. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Sirius to be stuck in a house like Grimmuald Place. At least Harry could go out without having to worry about aurors arresting him.

Mrs. Weasley was keeping a close eye on Fred and George, who had their heads together and were muttering to each other when they weren't watching Padfoot. Harry almost laughed out loud at the memory of how they'd realized they were in a house with the last two Marauders.

* * *

_The target was Myrddin._

_The twins had been trying to prank him since he first arrived, but had remained unsuccessful. However, they had been very successful in getting everyone else in the process. Most of the Order thought it was funny, proving Harry right about how necessary a joke should be to keep everyone sane during the war. Even Moody was impressed by the creativity of some of the twins' spells._

_Unbeknownst to Fred and George, two other people, besides Mryddin, had remained unaffected by the pranks and were only mildly impressed. Harry had been walking around on tiptoes for days, just waiting for Padfoot and Moony to show Gred and Forge how it was done._

_He was almost sure that something would be happening soon. Sirius had seemed more upbeat than usual since he'd practically skipped into the kitchen at breakfast and even Lupin had been suppressing a smirk, though no one had noticed save Harry. He may not have known the Marauders for long, but he'd known Fred and George long enough to recognize the signs of a prank in the making._

_Harry peered cautiously into the kitchen. Everyone else was already seated, waiting for Mrs. Weasley to finish the final touches on dinner. Everyone was taking part in their customary pre-dinner past times. Tonks was entertaining Ginny and Hermione by morphing her nose. Moody was glowering at everyone in between terse sentences directed toward Bill Weasely and Myrddin - who apparently knew more about DADA than anything else - regarding various wards and curse-breaking techniques. Ron was eyeing his mother impatiently. Sirius and Lupin were talking quietly with Mr. Weasley. Mundugus was teetering in his chair, and Fred and George were once more muttering with their heads together._

_Seeing no immediate cause for worry, Harry walked in and took his seat next to Ron. Sirius caught his eye, nodding in greeting. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye that did nothing to calm Harry's nerves, especially when he saw that it was reflected in Lupin's eyes as well. Somehow, Harry doubted he'd get to actually eat his dinner._

" _There you are, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "Just in time for dinner. Grab your bowls and line up."_

_No sooner had she spoken, than the bowls, spoons, cups, and any other piece of dinnerware on the table rose into the air and flew straight toward Fred and George. They let out a bellow, throwing their hand up over their heads just in time to protect their faces from the dishes that were now attacking them._

" _Oh, honestly," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "This had better not be one of your pranks gone wrong again._ Finite incantatem!"

_Nothing happened. Fred and George sprinted round the table, trying to escape the dishes that were intent on bludgeoning them._

" _Help! Someone get these bloody things off us!" they shouted in unison._

_An explosion went off over the table. The dishes stilled without warning. They hung inches from the twins, as though waiting to strike. White sparks formed words that nearly sent Harry, Ron, and Hermione into peals of laughter. Fred and George lowered their arms cautiously to take a look._

Messers. Moony and Padfoot would like to congratulate Messers Gred and Forge on their creativity in pranking, but would like to point out that the mark of a true master prankster is accuracy.

_Without warning, the dishes resumed their attack, beating Fred and George over the head relentlessly, eliciting muffled curses that earned them a stern look from Mrs. Weasley. Harry snuck at glance at his godfater. Sirius was looking decidedly smug._

_As Fred and George raced around the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley took turns attempting to end the spell. When nothing seemed to work, Moody stepped in, but even he couldn't break the enchantment._

" _Whoever cast this charm knew what they were doing," he said grudgingly. "They're probably the only ones who can break it."_

" _What!" the twins exclaimed in unison._

" _You mean-"_

" _-we're stuck-"_

" _-like this!"_

" _It looks like it," Moody growled._

" _Well, I don't know about that."_

_All eyes turned to Lupin. Harry noticed for the first time that the spark of mischief in his eyes and the smirk that was tugging at lips made him look considerably younger. The same could be said of Sirius, who was standing beside the one-time professor, a wide, smug grin on his face. Harry had the feeling that he was catching a glimpse of what he'd been like before Azkaban._

" _I think they've learned their lesson, don't you?" Sirius asked, Lupin._

_The smirk became apparent. "I would have to agree. Perhaps it's time we took pity on them."_

" _If we must," Sirius sighed._

_As one, the two drew their wands and pointed them at Fred and George and said, "Mischief managed."_

_The dishes immediately floated back to their places at the table as if nothing had happened. Harry could no longer hold back his laughter. The dumbfounded look on the twins' faces was absolutely hilarious._

" _Was that really necessary?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, glaring at the two smirking men._

_Sirius raised an eyebrow and turned to Lupin. "What do you think Moony? Was that really necessary?"_

" _I believe it was, Padfoot." He leveled a calm gaze at the twins, who were still staring, dumbstruck, at them. "Targeting a group in hopes of striking an individual that has alluded you is just sloppy."_

_The twins blushed as red as their hair, knowing exactly who the Marauders were talking about. The man in question just looked amused._

_Mrs. Weasley huffed angrily. "Honestly, they're bad enough without your encouragement. I can't believe that you would be involved in something like this Remus. I always thought you far too mature for pranking."_

_Lupin took the admonishment lightly. "There's a time to be mature and a time not to be."_

" _Moony always did come up with our best pranks," Sirius said. "And he made some of my more interesting ideas work."_

_The twins seemed to finally found their voices. "We just got pranked by the Marauders," Fred said numbly._

" _I think I can die happy," added George._

_The entire room, even Mrs. Weasley dissolved into laughter._

_The pranks on Myrddin had stopped after that. For three days, the twins had followed Sirius and Lupin around, begging the Marauders to teach them how to be true pranksters. It had been hilarious._

* * *

"Fred, George, you two go first."

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts to see that the group had reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Padfoot was looking at him strangely. Harry just grinned.

There was a slightly nerve-wracking moment on the platform where Sirius put his paws on his shoulders in a very un-doglike manner to say goodbye. Harry could have sworn he saw Malfoy eyeing Sirius critically as Mrs. Weasley shoved him aside. It had made his stomach drop.

Once on the train, Ron and Hermione went off to the prefect's carriage, leaving Harry with Ginny and Myrddin. The two of them had made their way down the train until they ran into Neville. Eventually, the four of them ended up in a compartment with Luna Lovegood. Harry wasn't sure she was all there. She was reading her magazine upside down and kept going on about creatures that he was almost sure weren't real, but she seemed nice enough.

Myrddin stayed quiet, speaking only when spoken to and mostly just to explain who he was. Luna gave him a bit of strange look, almost as if she didn't believe him, but chatted amiably enough with him just a few minutes later about something called a Crumple-horned Snorkack.

About two hours into the ride, the compartment door slid open and Cho Chang stuck her head in. Just a few months before, her presence would have been enough to make Harry's heart flutter. Now, all he could think about was that he had watched her boyfriend die, that he'd been too slow to save Cedric.

"Hello," she murmured.

"Um...hi," Harry said awkwardly.

Cho blushed. "I just...wanted to see how you were."

"Oh, well, I'm good, I suppose. You?"

Harry almost kicked himself as soon as the question came out of his mouth. He knew he sounded incredibly insensitive.

"I'm all right," Cho said. "Um...I should go. My...my friends are waiting. I'll see you later, Harry."

He muttered a good bye, trying to ignore the looks from his friends. To his surprise and gratitude, Myrddin began asking questions about Hogwarts to distract them while Harry came to the not so surprising conclusion that he no longer had a crush on Cho Chang.

* * *

A hand grabbed Merlin's arm as he disembarked from the train. He found himself pulling into the shadows by Luna Lovegood. She was giving him a strangely piercing, yet unfocused look.

"Your name isn't Myrddin and your magic is strange," she said dreamily. "Who are you?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes to examine her magic. It only took a moment to find what he was looking for. She was a seer, and very rare one at that. She could sense the truth of people. There would be no getting around her.

"Someone who's here to help," he said, keeping his voice low. "I can't really give a straight answer right now, but you'll have to trust me. I want Voldemort gone as much as anyone and I'm here to do what I can to make sure that happens."

Luna cocked her head. "I believe you," she murmured, before skipping away.

The warlock shook his had. Magic and those who wielded it would never cease to surprise him, even after all of his centuries. Shaking his head, he followed her to the carriages. Harry was staring at the thestrals in horror and confusion. Merlin winced in sympathy. He still remembered the first time he'd seen one. It had been more common for a person to be able to see the creatures back then, given the way Uther was executing sorcerer's left and right. But it had still been a shock. Now, seeing a thestral was more taboo than ever.

"It's a thestral," he said quietly, moving to stand beside Harry. "They can only been seen by those who have witnessed death."

Harry stared at him with wide eyes. "You mean I can see them because-"

"Yes," Merlin said quickly.

"And you can see them, too? I'm not mad?"

Merlin shook his head. "No. I've been able to see them for a long time." He hesitated before telling Harry why he could see them. Strictly speaking, it was because he'd seen the execution of Mary Collins' son his first day in Camelot. He sighed, and settled for not saying anything unless Harry asked.

He didn't.

The timely arrival of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny broke Harry's somber mood. Merlin listened as they chatted about Quidditch and who would be teaching Defense this year. Kilgharrah had told him about the curse on the DADA position. They were trying to determine how exactly Voldemort had managed that and break it so that Dumbledore could get a decent teacher. Merlin had given up the idea of disguising Kilgharrah as a cat since the dragon seemed determined to make himself known. It would make him stand out, but he'd just keep telling people the story he'd used with Harry and the order.

He clambered out of the carriage behind the others and looked up at the castle. He was beginning to feel decidedly nervous. There would be no hiding the fact that he was an ancient warlock from the Sorting Hat. He wasn't really looking forward to that argument. And on top of everything else, he had to convince the Hat to put him in Gryffindor so that he could more easily keep an eye on Harry and the others.

Professor McGonagall was standing in the hall when they entered. She caught sight of Merlin and headed right toward him.

"Mr. Lyonnesse, you are to follow me for Sorting," she said briskly. Merlin nodded and followed her to the same room where the first years were waiting. This was not going to be pleasant.

All of the first years were staring at him in wonder. He gave them a reassuring smile. The Sorting would be painless for them.

Time stretched on interminably, but McGonagall finally returned. "Form a line and follow me, please. Mr. Lyonnesse, if you will stay close to me. You will be sorted first."

Merlin nodded to her and fell into step behind her. He stared pointedly at the head table, allowing himself to look nervous, as any other transfer student would be. The stool with the Hat was already standing before the head table. McGonagall gestured at Merlin and the first years to stop before moving to stand beside the Sorting Hat.

"This year, we have a transfer student for fifth year," she said clearly. "Myrddin Lyonnesse, please come forward for Sorting."

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the whispers that had suddenly erupted through the hall, Merlin walked up to the stool and sat down. The hat fell over his eyes.

And nothing happened.

_Um...hello?_

_Merlin Emrys? How is this even possible?_  the hat almost squeaked.

 _It's a long story,_  Merlin thought tiredly.  _Could you please just sort me?_

_Of course. But where to put you? Any house would suit you. You would have done the founders proud. Where to put you?_

_If it's really that difficult to decide, you'd make my life a whole lot simpler if you would put me in Gryffindor so I can keep an eye on Harry. He's going to need all the help he can get over the next few months._

_Indeed. It was a pleasure to sort you into_ GRYFFINDOR!

Merlin let out a sigh of relief. That was easier than he'd expected. Fixing a weak smile on his face, Merlin made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat down opposite Harry.

"Congratulations," Harry whispered.

"You're a bit old to be a fifth year, aren't you?" Seamus asked bluntly.

Hermione looked like she was ready to slap him upside the head for his question if she's been close enough to do it or if she hadn't had to reach around Ron. Merlin just sighed and quietly repeated his story about being ill as a child and eventually losing his parents to their fight against any and all dark wizards. Seamus paled and muttered an apology.

"Think nothing of it," Merlin said gently. "I know that this is an unusual situation."

He glanced up at the head table to ward off any other questions and noticed for the first time that Dolores Umbridge was sitting in the seat usually reserved for the Defense teacher. This could not bode well.

Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and carried the stool and the Sorting hat out of the hall. Once she was gone, Dumbledore stood, holding up his hand for silence.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said warmly. "First year students, and some returning students as well, should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you once again that magic is forbidden in the corridors.

"Also, we have two new additions to our staff this year. "First of all, Professor Grubbly-Plank will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures while Hagrid is unavailable. Second, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by Dolores Umbridge."

Merlin joined in the polite, if unenthusiastic, applause. He did not like the fact that a ministry stooge had found a way into the school. He would have to talk to Dumbledore about that.

"Quidditch trials will be held on the-"

"Hem hem."

Merlin wasn't the only one taken aback by the interruption that came from the toad-like witch who had stood up and was looking at Dumbledore expectantly. The headmaster looked at her in slight surprise before sitting down sharply and giving her his full attention. She smiled more widely and walked round the table to address the students.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts with such happy little faces smiling back at me," Umbridge simpered.

Considering that Merlin was a twelve hundred year old High Warlock, he was not at all happy to be addressed like a toddler. Just by glancing around, he could see that most of the school was in agreement. Umbridge didn't notice.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Every headmaster and headmistress has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas other, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent of preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited." (1)

Silence followed her speech. Hermione was frowning. Knowing how clever she was, Merlin was almost sure that she had figured out exactly what Umbridge had meant.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked as Dumbledore resumed giving the announcements.

"Weren't you listening?" Hermione snapped. Ron and Harry both shook their heads unabashedly. Hermione scowled at them. "She more or less said that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

Merlin was mildly impressed that she'd figured it out. Umbridge had done a very good job of disguising her intention in boring speech that most of the students wouldn't listen to.

The rest of the feast went off without a hitch. No one but Merlin noticed the looks that Seamus kept giving Harry. He frowned slightly. That did not bode well.

When the feast ended, Hermione and Ron - with some prodding - jumped up to lead the first years back to the common room. Merlin almost laughed. Ron was going to be an interesting sort of prefect.

Harry caught his eye and led Merlin up to the common room. He knew the Hogwarts castle almost as well as he'd known Camelot, but it didn't seem like a good thing to mention.

"You must be the knew fifth year," the Fat Lady said appraisingly when she saw Merlin. "I do hope you won't be causing trouble as some do."

Ignoring the admonishment directed toward him, Harry opened his mouth to say the password only to realize that he'd rushed off without getting the password.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"It's all right," Merlin shrugged. "Someone'll be along soon enough."

Neville came running up even as Merlin spoke, brandishing a strange cactus-like plant that he'd shown them on the train.

"Harry! Guess what. I'll actually remember the password this time. It's  _mimbulus mimbletonia!"_

The portrait swung open. The three boys scrambled through.

"Our dormitory is at the top of the stairs," Harry said. "I'll show you which bed you can have."

Merlin nodded and followed him quietly. When they reached the dorm, they found that Ron hadn't yet returned, but that Dean and Seamus were there. Seamus looked up at Harry and glared.

"Something wrong, Seamus?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back," Seamus said angrily.

Harry stopped short. "What?"

"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"Because of you!" Seamus snapped. "You and Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he suddenly tensed. "You mean she believes the stuff the Prophet has been printing? That I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"

"Yeah, she does. It's not as though any one knows what went on during the Third Task. What did really happen? Did you really watch You-Know-Who kill Cedric?"

Merlin could see that Harry was about to retort, which wouldn't help matters. Laying a hand on Harry's shoulder, Merlin stepped forward.

"It's the Daily Prophet's word against Harry's," he said softly. "You should ask yourself if you wish to believe a paper that has shown itself to be allied to the Ministry, regardless of the state of things, or do you wish to believe someone with whom you have shared a room for four years. Personally, given the lies that Rita Skeeter has been known to write, I would rather trust someone I have barely known for two months than the Prophet."

Seamus glared at both Myrddin and Harry before shoving past them and storming out of the dormitory.

"Thanks," said Harry softly.

"Don't mention it," Merlin said. "I meant every word."

"It's probably a good thing that Ron wasn't here," Harry admitted. "He'd have probably punched Seamus."

"I highly doubt that would have helped anything," Merlin said with a chuckle.

"You can take that bed." Harry gestured at the sixth bed that had been added to the dormitory. "If you need anything, that one's mine and that one's Ron's. Though I wouldn't recommend waking him. He tends to be a bit incoherent and rather grouchy."

Merlin chuckled.

Late that night, once the other boys were asleep, Merlin cast a glamour over himself and slipped out of the dormitory. He had a painting to visit.

When magical paintings had been introduced, Merlin had cast the enchantment on one of the few paintings of Arthur that had survived the fall of Camelot. The castle has been razed shortly after his death. Very little had survivedWhen Hogwarts had been founded, Merlin had donated one portrait of Arthur and enchanted a second, the only other one left, so that the king could travel from portrait to portrait and help Merlin keep an eye on the school.

It had worked well for a while. Then something had happened. A dark wizard had risen, and once more Merlin was forced to stand by and do nothing. It hadn't gone over well with Arthur and they'd gotten into quite the argument, which had culminated in Arthur saying that if Merlin wasn't going to do anything about the situation, then he wasn't about to continuing helping the warlock. He'd stormed out of the painting in Merlin's little house, and hadn't returned since.

That had been at least several centuries ago. Merlin had never thought that Arthur could stay angry that long. Eventually he'd just forgotten about the argument. It had hurt too much to think about it. But now that he was going to be in the castle, he was going to have to confront Arthur, if only to avoid unpleasant confrontations should they accidentally meet.

Merlin passed unseen through the halls of Hogwarts. Not even the paintings on the walls noticed him. It was a simple spell that had proven its usefulness over the years. Not even Mad-eye Moody would have been able to see him. He only wished that he'd discovered the spell back when he'd been sneaking around Uther.

He made it to the North Tower without incident. He didn't even have to dodge Mrs. Norris. Panting slightly, he came to a halt before a painting that housed a fat dapple-grey pony that was snoozing peacefully. A squat little knight was laying beside the pony, fast asleep.

Merlin arched an eyebrow and tried not to burst out laughing.

"What on earth happened to you, Arthur?" he choked out.

Moving closer he ran his fingers over the canvas, feeling the magic. There was something more than the usual animating enchantments on the painting.

" _Iewan wiccunga,_ " he whispered, running his hands over the canvas once more.

The painting began to glow faintly. There were traces of grey and sky blue light surrounding the frame. His eyes glowed as he gazed at the painting. He recognized the traces. Arthur's painting had been hit with a badly case confundus charm followed by an equally badly cast bloating charm. It was obvious that some students had started duelling and the painting had been caught in the crossfire.

Suppressing a grin, he poked at the painting. If he was right, he was about to have quite a lot of fun.

"Arthur?" he said. "Arthur, wake up."

"Who goes there?" the little knight shouted, leaping to his feet and looking around blearily. "Stand and fight you braggart!"

"I mean you no harm," Merlin said soothingly. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace when the knight's sleepy gaze found him. "I am looking for a friend. I thought this was his painting. Though it has been many years since I have seen him. It is possible that I am wrong. Are you Arthur?"

"Arthur?" the knight repeated, looking comically confused. "I know no such man. A quest to find him perhaps?"

"That is not necessary," Merlin said, quickly. If any part of Arthur had been retained after the confundus charm, then once he got started on a quest, he wouldn't stop. "I believe I know what mistake I made. I am sorry to have disturbed your sleep."

"Think nothing of it," said the knight. "If you require aid in finding your friend, call upon Sir Cadogan."

"Oh I will," muttered Merlin. "And when I do, Sir Cadogan is going to remember that his is actually King Arthur and I am never going to let him live it down. This will be perfect revenge for all those times he brought up Dragoon."

Merlin was still chuckling when he slipped back into the dormitory and went to sleep. His time at Hogwarts was going to be more interesting than he'd thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Speech taken directly from OotP


	5. Chapter 4

Morning came far too quickly. Merlin may have gotten better about waking up when he was supposed to, but that didn't mean he  _liked_  it any more than he had when he'd still been a lowly manservant. He rolled himself out of bed with a groan and stumbled into the bathroom. Turning the water to scalding hot, he stepped into it and proceeded to wake up and get clean.

"BLOODY HELL!"

Merlin started. His foot slid on the slick tiles and his arms pinwheeled automatically in a mad attempt to regain his balance.

"What in Avalon's name?" he muttered as more shouts drifted into the bathroom from the dormitory. The floor shook slightly. Dread pooled deep in his stomach. He quickly shut off the water snapped his fingers. The suds disappeared and his skin dried. He grabbed his dressing gown off the hook, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and hurried out the door.

Seamus was standing in the middle of the room, his wand in hand, and was casting jinxes and curses as rapidly as he could. The other boys in the dorm were awake as well. Neville had fallen out of bed and was now cowering behind his mattress. Dean was staring around in confusion while Ron and Harry had cast shields in an attempt to block the spells that Seamus was still casting with no regard to the other occupants of the room.

"DON'T LET IT GET AWAY!" he shouted when Dean made to open the door and escape the dorm. The locking jinx Seamus cast at the door nearly hit Dean's hand.

"What what you're doing!" said Harry crossly, glaring at Seamus. Merlin could see that he was calculating how best to jinx the other boy without dropping the shield that was protecting him.

Deftly avoiding the flying spells, Merlin managed to grab his wand off his bedside table before crouching down beside Harry. "What is going on?"

"I've no idea," Harry cried. "He just woke up, shouting and starting casting spells all over the place. He nearly jinxed Neville!"

"We haven't been able to figure out what the bloody hell he's trying to hit," added Ron. Merlin noticed that he did not look happy to have been woken the way he had. Then again, from what Merlin had seen over the summer, Ron didn't seem to like being woken up at all.

Movement near the ceiling caught Merlin's eye. A small form dove from the shadows, straight toward Seamus. The boy cursed loudly and dove aside just in time to avoid getting hit in the head with an an angry dragon.

Kilgarrah soared upward again and crouched on the rafter, his back arched much like a cat's, his wings spread menacingly as he glared down at Seamus.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ Merlin demanded.

 _Defending myself!_  snapped Kilgarrah.  _This sorry excuse for a wizard attempted to curse me for no reason whatsoever!_

_Oh, really? Just what were you doing when this began?_

_I was sitting here, waiting for you to return so that we could venture downstairs. I was only minding my own business, making no trouble at all. Then he awoke and saw me. I did nothing but look at him and he shouted and began attempting ot hex me._

_And so you attacked him? Really, Kilgarrah. What did that solve? And Arthur always called_ me _the idiot._

_I am well aware that this was, perhaps, not the best course of action. But it was all I could do until you returned and forced the blasted idiot to listen. I doubt he'd actually stop to listen to a talking dragon!_

_There is no call to be sarcastic. Would you at least attempt to look docile? Your threatening is not helping the situation._

_Very well,_ Kilgarrah grumbled.

Drawing his wand, Merlin pointed it at Seamus and calmly said,  _"Expelliarimus!"_

The boy's wand flew through the air, straight toward Merlin, who caught it with easy. Ron looked rather put out. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Harry shrugged and ran a hand tiredly over his face. "I don't know about you, mate, but I'm not quite awake yet."

Seamus spun to face Merlin. "What the hell did you do that for? That bloody creature is trying to kill me!"

"Kilgarrah is doing no such thing," said Merlin, rolling his eyes. "He claims that he was just sitting in the rafters, waiting for me, and I believe him. He rarely interacts with anyone save for me."

"How can you possibly know what he was doing?" Seamus demanded. "You weren't here, and it's not as though that thing can talk!"

"I would not be so quick, Mr. Finnegan. You may find that I am quite articulate."

All eyes turned to Kilgarrah, who was looking down at them with a smug expression on his scaly face. Harry and Ron seemed only mildly surprised. They'd become more or less accustomed to the fact that Kilgarrah could speak over the summer. He'd only done it a handful of times, preferring mostly to keep to himself and speak through Merlin, but the surprise had worn off a bit. Neville, on the other hand, looked about ready to pass out.

"What the hell is that thing?" asked Seamus warily. He raised his wand hand before remembering that he didn't have his wand and dropping it quickly.

Ron looked at Seamus like he was an idiot. "It's a dragon, what it Merlin's name does it look like?"

"Dragons aren't that small in size, not even as hatchlings," Seamus snapped. "Everyone knows that."

"Trust me, it's a dragon," Harry said dryly.

"I am not an it," Kilgarrah interjected indignantly. "I have a name."

"Oh really? What is it, then?" asked Seamus with a sneer.

"Kilgarrah," Merlin said loudly, drawing everyone's attention back to himself and effectively rebuking Kilgharrah, who really wasn't helping the situation. "His name is Kilgarrah and he is a very rare breed of dragon, the last of the race of Old Magic. If you actually believe him, he used to know Merlin."

"I did at that," Kilgarrah sniffed, quickly catching on to Merlin's plan. "He was a bit of an idiot when first we met."

 _Thanks,_  said Merlin dryly.

_You are most welcome, young warlock._

He rolled his eyes.  _Just play along to this next bit. I've got to put them at ease._

_I take it that I am not going to like what you have planned._

_Probably not._

Kilgarrah heaved a sigh.  _Very well. I will trust your judgement._

_Thank you._

"Believe him if you will," Merlin said aloud to the dormitory. "Whether he knew Merlin or not, which frankly, I doubt, he is a wonderful companion. I have learnt quite a lot from him and, for all his growling, he is not dangerous. I've never known him to hurt anyone. Had you not cast the first spell, he never would have retaliated and attacked you. He is far too gentle and his bark is truly worse than his bite."

He paused slightly and leveled an icy gaze on Seamus. "Though I understand that his presence and appearance alarmed you, I do not appreciate the fact that you attacked without question. A wand is a powerful weapon. You must learn to use it wisely, or you may easily end up doing something you regret."

Seamus stared at Merlin, open-mouthed. The warlock placed Seamus' wand on the nearest beside table.

Silence fell over the dormitory. Seamus was rigid with anger. He glared at Harry, who frowned in confusion. He snatched his wand off the table and stormed past Merlin, into the bathroom, pausing only to grab his robes. The echo from the slamming door had barely faded before he stomped out again, fully dressed, and swept out of the dormitory. He was followed quickly by Dean, who gave everyone an apologetic look.

 _This is going to be harder than I thought,_ Merlin sighed.  _The tension between them is unsettling and I know they don't fully trust me, either. Voldemort has certainly succeeded in sowing discord._

_Indeed. But you are more than capable of surmounting this barrier. You will gain their trust and their friendship. After all, you are the servant who befriended one of the most arrogant princes in history and made him a good man._

_Was that a compliment?_

_Certainly not. It was merely fact._

Merlin chuckled.  _If you say so._

_Just get dressed. You have a long day ahead of you. Defense Against the Dark Arts with Dolores Umbridge. You will need your wits, what few you have, for that encounter._

_Thank you for that vote of confidence._

* * *

Harry stared after Seamus, wondering what the hell he'd done this time and how this year could possible get any worse. A sudden weight on his shoulder broke Harry from his thoughts. He glanced up to see Kilgarrah staring back at him.

 _Do not worry about him,_ the dragon spoke into his mind.  _He had been forced to chose between loyalty to his family and loyalty to his friend and to his school. It is a most difficult choice to make. He is unable to see past his own troubles. Do not make the same mistake._

Harry frowned thoughtfully. He hadn't even thought about it from that angle. Kilgarrah squeezed his shoulder gently with his talons before soaring over to Myrddin's bed and curling up on the pillow, his yellow eyes gazing fixedly at Myrddin.

"This year is definitely going to be interesting, isn't it?" Ron grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

Harry snorted. "You mean like all our other years at Hogwarts?" he pointed out dryly.

"Right," Ron muttered.

"I take it that adventures are commonplace at Hogwarts," said Myrddin, his eyes sparkling.

"You have no idea," sighed Ron.

"Something always happens to us. Well, mostly me," said Harry. "But Ron and Hermione seem to get involved by association."

Myrddin's smile became sad. "You two sound like two people I used to know. They were the best of friends and were always getting into trouble of the worst possible kind. One of them seemed to attract, rather like you, Harry. Without his friend, he probably wouldn't have survived more than a few years. They were inseparable. Don't lose that."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, unsure of what to say to that. Myrddin blushed slightly and fidgeted where he stood, suddenly looking as though he'd said more than he'd intended.

"I should head down," he said quickly. "I'd like a few minutes to learn my way around the castle before classes start."

He started toward the door. Harry grimaced slightly. As much as he didn't trust Myrddin, he didn't want him to spend his first few days at Hogwarts getting lost. He as a Gryffindor after all, and one of the few people in the school who actually believed him. Not to mention, Professor McGonagall would probably give him detention if she found out that Harry didn't help out.

"You should wait for us in the Common Room," he said quickly before Myrddin could leave the room. "You'll never find your way down on your own. We got lost the first month we were here. Took a week to figure out how to get to the Great Hall and we still messed up a couple of times."

Myrddin smiled gratefully. "Thanks. I'm absolutely hopeless at finding my away around." He gestured to Kilgarrah, who soared across the room and alighted on the young man's shoulder. With one last wave, Myrddin left the room.

"He's strange," Ron said once he was gone.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're just now coming to that conclusion."

Ron chuckled. "It's just becoming more obvious the longer we know him. What do you think he meant with all that stuff about us reminding him of someone that he knew?"

"Dunno. But it's another mystery to add to the list. I think we should stick close to him. I'm not entirely sure that he's someone we can trust."

"What do you mean? He seems nice enough, if a little mysterious."

"I know, Ron. That's the problem. There are just things about him that don't add up. You weren't at my hearing. The way he handled himself, you wouldn't know that he supposedly spent most of his life in remote locations with his parents and he, somehow, destroyed one of the dementors that attacked him. He's not telling us something and I think it's important."

Ron looked doubtful. "Whatever you say, mate. Lets go get something to eat. Myrddin and Hermione are probably still waiting. You know she's probably boring him to death with fact about the school that she learned from  _Hogwarts, A History._  Besides, I'm starving."

"Of course you are," Harry laughed. Some things, never changed.

* * *

Merlin nearly ran into Hermione when he came down the stairs. She was glaring at the bulletin board as if she wanted to set it on fire. She was very close to doing just that.

"Something wrong?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Those two," she growled. "They are the absolute limit. What do they think they're doing, advertising their products in the common room?"

Curious, the warlock drew closer and read the notice that had gotten Hermione's dander up. Apparently, the Weasley twins were advertising for testers for the products. He had to admit that it was rather clever. They were pranksters, yes, but he knew that they would never actually hurt someone. He also knew that Hermione would never listen to him, so he wisely backed away and made himself comfortable in front of the fire to wait for Harry and Ron.

 _When are you planning to patch things up with Arthur?_  Kilgarrah asked suddenly. Since his disagreement with Arthur's portrait, Merlin had been brooding more than usual. Kilgarrah suspected that he was lonely.

"What?" asked Merlin distractedly.

Kilgarrah rolled his eyes, and glanced around to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear if he spoke aloud. They weren't.

"Honestly, young warlock. Are you still holding a grudge? You yourself have admitted countless times to having the same frustrations. Or do you not remember that just months before your argument, you spent two hours ranting about how pointless it was to be an immortal who couldn't actually do anything to help the present? You should have forgiven him years ago."

"He's the one that walked away. He told me not to bother contacting him again," Merlin said tiredly. "I tried everything, short of coming up to the school to speak to him and he did not respond. I'm not the one holding the grudge."

Realizing that he sounded like a petulant child, Merlin quickly added, "Besides, even he isn't holding a grudge. I went to talk to him last night, as I knew that he deserved to know that I would be in the school and why." A sudden mischievous glint appeared in the warlock's eyes. "I learned something rather interesting."

Grinning broadly, Merlin recounted his meeting with Sir Cadogan. There was an equally mischievous light in Kilgarrah's eye by the time he was finished.

"Oh, this I must see."

"I'll be sure to introduce you before I break the enchantments. I plan to have a little fun with Arthur anyway."

"Who are you talking to?"

Looking up in surprise, Merlin found Ginny standing a few feet behind him, a curious expression on her face. He smiled a bit sheepishly.

"Kilgarrah."

"Oh," she said, understanding dawning across his face. "I keep forgetting that he can talk."

"He  _never_  lets me forget," Merlin grumbled.

"Yet you seem only to comprehend a fraction of what I say to you," Kilgarrah sniffed. "It takes quite a lot of effort to penetrate your thick skull."

"I have become rather adept at ignoring you, for the sake of my own sanity."

Kilgarrah cuffed him around the head with one wing, causing Ginny giggle at their antics. It was hard to believe that a dragon, even one as small as Kilgarrah, could be so human.

_I really don't understand why Harry, Ron, and Hermione are so worried about those two. They're always so nice, even Kilgarrah once you get past the scales and sarcasm. I think they're just being paranoid._

Cursing silently, Merlin closed his mind. He hadn't meant to hear her thoughts, but she was naturally projecting them. With his mind open as it always was so that he could sense his surroundings, it had been impossible not to hear her. Projecting one's thoughts was a common wizarding gift and simple enough to accomplish, though she had developed it a bit early.

"Are you headed to breakfast?" he asked quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment from Kilgarrah.

Ginny nodded. "What about you?"

"Harry and Ron are supposed to be helping me find my way to the Great Hall."

"I'm meeting Luna, so why don't you come with me," she offered. "There's no telling how long Harry and Ron'll be."

Merlin grinned. "That would be great."

"How do you like Hogwarts so far?" Ginny asked as she led the way out of the dormitory.

"I haven't seen much of the school yet," the warlock chuckled, "but it seems pretty brilliant. There's something oddly comforting about being in a castle. I can't quite explain it. Besides, I'm looking forward to starting classes."

"They're hard, but they're a lot of fun. McGonagal is strict, but fair and History of Magic is dead boring. Just be careful in potions. Snape hates Gryffindors. He's always taking points form us."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. He knew that there was far more to Snape's attitude than most realized. He was hoping that he would be able to break through some of the man's barriers and save him from himself. Snape reminded Merlin far too much of Uther in his bitterness, though the potion's master did feel great sorrow for his wrongs, unlike the long-dead king.

 _You cannot save everyone, Merlin,_  whispered Kilgarrah softly.

_I know. But that doesn't mean I can't try._

"What electives are you taking?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Ancient Runes and Divination," said Merlin. "I've heard that the Divination teacher is a batty old fraud, but I've always been interested in the theory. One of my ancestors was supposed to have been a seer."

"I don't think you'll learn as much as you'd like. All she really does is predict Harry's horrible death." Grinny wrinkled her nose in clear annoyance.

Merlin shrugged. "It's worth a try."

He didn't mention that he wanted to be there in the unlikely event that Trelawney made another true prediction. In choosing between Divination and Care of Magical Creatures - it would have been far too obvious to take both - he'd decided that he could accomplish more in Divination. Magical creatures tended to have a strange reaction to him because he was of the old Magic and Divination was the perfect cover for some of the spells he would need to do. He'd be able to use some of the genuine Seeing artifacts to keep an eye on the world.

After a little more idle chatter, Merlin and Ginny split up when they reached the Great Hall. He made his way to the Gryffindor table, watching her surreptitiously as she greeted the same girl who'd pulled him aside when he got off the train. Ginny was a wonderful girl. Merlin found that he rather liked her and hoped that they could actually become friends.

It wasn't long before Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Hall behind a group of Ravenclaws. Harry looked depressed and a little angry. To Merlin's surprise, they walked over to him and sat down.

"I thought you were going to wait for us," said Ron, shoveling bacon and eggs onto his plate.

Merlin watched him pile his plate high with slight amusement. "Ginny offered to help me. I didn't get much chance to talk to her over the summer, so I agreed."

Harry shot him an appraising look, which he pretended not to notice while hiding a grimace. Of everyone, Harry seemed to see through his lies the best. Merlin wasn't sure how long he could string him along before Harry completely lost trust in him.

He was pulled from his reverie when Professor McGonagall passed by, handing out timetables. Ron immediately let out a groan.

"Do you see our schedule for today?" he demanded. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense! What is Dumbledore thinking?"

"Honestly, Ron," snapped Hermione. "The headmaster knows what he's doing. I'm sure this is the way things had to be. Besides, you should have dropped Divination like I did. You know the subject is nothing but guesswork."

Ron glared at her and retorted sharply. Merlin tuned them out and gazed at his schedule with a frown. He had to agree with Ron. No one in their right mind would ever construct such a schedule. It was actually torture for the students.

Merlin remained mostly silent throughout breakfast, preferring to merely listen, rather than force his presence on the three friends. It was rather amusing to observe them talking about Quidditch with a young woman who apparently the new team captain, or to watch Hermione go at it with the twins over their jokes.

 _You'll need to see to the wards,_ Kilgarrah noted after a few minutes in the Great Hall.  _They are strong, but incredibly vulnerable in their complexity. It seems that many wards have been layered over one another with no attempt to repair or remove old and obsolete spells. With Voldemort once more on the loose, something must be done._

 _I know,_  Merlin said in amusement.  _I noticed as soon as we passed through them, but I cannot simply tear down the old wards and erect new ones. It would be too obvious._

_Tom Riddle might be powerful, but I highly doubt that he would recognize a ward of Old Magic for what it truly is and he would never be able to break it._

_He would know that the ward is incredibly powerful, more powerful than any modern magic can create. I don't want Voldemort to become aware of my existence in any way._

_Though I hardly expect that Voldemort will realize that he is facing you, the real Merlin of the past, you are right. He would realize that Dumbledore has allied himself with someone immensely powerful. Still, you must do something to protect the students._

_I'm sure I'll figure something out,_ the warlock sighed.  _Unfortunately, it will have to wait until I can determine just how much power Dolores Umbridge holds in this school and how much of a threat she will be._

 _She is most decidedly nasty,_ Kilgarrah said with an almost imperceptible shudder.

Merlin frowned.  _I don't like the way that the Ministry is interfering in the school or the way that the Ministry has become so corrupt. Hogwarts is supposed to be free of such influence._

_What do you plan to do?_

_Must you really ask that? I plan to set things right. How, I don't know, but I will do it. We're going to need everyone fighting as one to defeat Voldemort._

_That we are, young warlock. That we are._

There was so much to do in order to save the wizarding world form the darkness and death it was headed toward. It was a lot to accomplish. Even for him.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of things. 
> 
> First: I had a poll up on FF.net a while ago as to whether I should bring Morgana in or not. It was narrow, but yes won, so she'll be making an appearance relatively soon. 
> 
> I've actually had several well thought out reviews and messages telling me why Morgana shouldn't come into the story and I am taking them into consideration. I really do have a very good reason for why she won't be evil and why she's immortal, too, but I don't want to give it away. Because of the concerns that have been expressed, I've decided that she will have a small part in this fic. I am planning to write a sequel that deals with HBP and possible DH (they might get separated, don't know yet) so if the way I portray her isn't well received, she'll be gone. If everyone likes it, she'll have a larger part. Hopefully, this will make everyone happy.
> 
> Second: Just a heads up. If I don't explicitly say that something didn't happen or happened differently from the book, then it happened. This fic is primarily from Merlin's POV and though he will change things a bit by his presence, many things, particularly at the beginning are going to happen as they did in the book. I see no point in rehashing what we know happened. If I ever confuse you by doing that, let me know, and I'll try to explain.

It had been hundreds of years since Merlin had seen someone have such a horrible day. History of Magic hadn't been so bad since Harry spent most the class playing hang-man with Ron and ignoring the dirty looks Hermione was throwing at him for not paying attention.

Things had gone downhill from there.

Merlin had taken the break between History and Potions to examine the wards a bit more closely and had told the trio that he'd find his way down to the dungeons on his own. By the time he heard the warning bell ring, Merlin had a better idea of what he needed to do to strengthen the wards. He shifted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and hurried into the castle, Kilgharrah soaring after him. They garnered many looks and quite a few shrieks of horror from some of the younger students, but Merlin ignored them.

He made it down to the dungeons with plenty of time to spare and found that most of the students were standing outside the classroom. Ron and Hermione were arguing while Harry looked deep in thought. He glanced up when he saw Merlin.

"Did you find your way without any trouble?" he asked.

Merlin nodded. "It's not exactly difficult. What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing," Harry muttered, barely audible over the sound of the classroom door creaking open. Merlin filed in behind him and ended up taking a seat at an empty table near the front of the room, seeing as everyone else had already partnered up.

Snape swept into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Settle down," he said coldly, and unnecessarily. Everyone had already fallen silent and still. Merlin arched an eyebrow. He hadn't spent much time around Professor Snape, not even at Grimmuald Place, but he certainly didn't seem like a pleasant fellow.

Merlin's frown deepened as Snape set about intimidating his class in regards to the upcoming standardized tests at the end of the year. It seemed to working particularly well on Neville, who gulped nervously several times.

Eventually, Snape put instructions on the board for the Draught of Peace, which Merlin knew to often be on the OWLs. It was also extremely simple for someone like him to brew, but extremely difficult for the average fifteen year old wizard. Setting that potion as the assignment for the first lesson, with no instruction on the actual brewing, was ridiculous. Still frowning, Merlin got to work, ignoring the curious gaze that Snape kept sending him.

Snape didn't even speak until class had almost ended and he spent the entire period at the front of the room, offering absolutely no help. Merlin spent the last thirty minutes of class flipping though his textbook, allowing the potion to set. Glancing around, he saw that Hermione was the only Gryffindor, other than himself, to have brewed the potion correctly.

The professor swept past Merlin without even a second look at his perfectly brewed potion. As he bottled up a sample for grading, the warlock could hear Snape berating Harry for missing an ingredient and Malfoy snickering. Forcing himself not to interfere in the middle of class, Merlin walked up to the front of the classroom and set his potion on the desk next to several others. Being a biased git was necessary for Snape to keep his cover as a loyal Death Eater intact, but it was still difficult for Merlin to watch. He turned just in time to see Snape vanish Harry's potion.

"Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday. And Mr. Lyonnesse, stay behind," said Snape.

Kilgharrah leapt up from his place beneath the table and curled himself around Merlin's shoulders like a shawl of some kind. They waited for the rest of the class to leave before walking up to Snape's desk.

"Is something the matter, sir?" he asked politely.

"How is it, that you managed to brew that potion in under an hour?" Snape hissed. "I have never seen even a master complete it so quickly and so perfectly and yet you claim to have incomplete schooling."

Merlin could have kicked himself.

 _Just tell him,_  Kilgharrah grumbled.  _It seems you have little other choice after that display._

"I'm waiting," growled Snape. "We do not tolerate cheating at this institution."

"Is it cheating to have witnessed the invention of the potion and to have brewed it thousands of times over hundreds of years?" Merlin asked contemplatively.

Kilgharrah snorted.  _Not the best route to take, young warlock._

Seeing the way Snape's face paled, Merlin had to agree. Before the man could take points from Gryffindor, Merlin said quickly, "I'm not being smart. It's the truth." He drew his wand and twirled it in his hand until it enlarged into a staff. He struck it on the ground and light flashed through the dungeon.

"Do stop showing off and just tell the man who you are!" Kilgharrah grumbled.

"Right," Merlin scoffed. "Because just coming out and saying that I'm a warlock who's supposed to be have been dead for over a thousand years without somehow backing up that claim is so much better." He turned to Snape. "You'll have to excuse Kilgharrah. Being small has shortened his temper, though he had little patience to begin with. What I tell you cannot leave this room. Only the headmaster knows the truth. This is not something you can use to gain Voldemort's trust."

Snape's eyes widened infinitesimally. "What? How-"

"I've been keeping an eye on the wizarding world for many years. You'll find that very little escapes my notice. I am fully aware of the game you play for our side."

"Dumbledore would never have told you that," Snape hissed, drawing his wand. "Who are you?"

Knowing that simply saying, "I'm Merlin," wouldn't convince the understandably cautious man in front him, he opened his mind and looked Snape directly in the eye. The man jumped at the chance, just as Merlin knew he would. He pushed his memories forward, allowing Snape to see everything he needed to be convinced.

Snape stumbled backward, panting slightly. His calm, cold mask was gone and his eyes were wide with undisguised astonishment.

"How is this even possible?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not even sure of that. All I know, is that it is possible."

"At least that explains how you managed to brew the potion so quickly," Snape said dryly.

"I didn't stop to think that a normal student would need more time to hesitate when adding the ingredients," admitted Merlin. "I'll try to be more careful in the future. The headmaster is the only person, besides yourself now, who knows who I really am. It needs to stay that way until the right time."

Snape nodded his understanding curtly. Satisfied, Merlin reduced his staff to a wand once more, took the note Snape handed him excusing him for being late, and made to leave the room. He paused at the door.

"I understand that you are in a delicate situation," he said over his shoulder. "Tricking the Dark Lord into believing that you are loyal is not easy. You have a part to play. Be sure that it does not go too far or those on your own side will doubt you and that may have unimaginable consequences."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He appeared to be thinking over what Merlin had said.

"If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask," Merlin added. "I want Voldemort gone as much as everyone else."

He didn't wait to hear Snape's answer. Merlin hoped that his point got across and that Snape realized what his actions in class, and outside of it, could do.

Merlin raced upstairs to the North Tower as quickly as possible. He doubted that Trelawney would actually take points, but he did think that she would single him out and make a fool out of him with some idiotic predictions. Having been the subject of several very real ones, he really wasn't looking forward to that.

"Stand and fight!" Arthur shouted as Merlin sprinted past. The warlock didn't even stop to laugh or to let Kilgharrah get a good look at the king. Though, he did hear Kilgharrah chuckle in his ear.

He slid to a halt in front of the rope ladder that led to the Divination classroom and clambered up it. Kilgharrah soared up in front of him. He heard a shriek from the room.

"Sorry, I'm late," panted Merlin. He tried not to look alarmed by the fact that the teacher greatly resembled an overgrown insect with glasses that magnified her eyes and beads that glittered everywhere. "Professor Snape held me back."

Merlin hurried forward and handed her the pass that Snape had written.

"What is that creature?" Trelawney demanded, pointing at Kilgharrah who had curled up on Harry and Ron's table. "It holds a dark portent."

"That's just Kilgharrah," said Merlin. "He's my familiar."

Trelawney looked at him critically.

"You have a very strong aura. I sense that you possess the Seeing Eye. If you would take a seat," she said mistily. "We are interpreting dreams."

It was all Merlin could do not to snort and roll his eyes at her proclamation that he possessed the seeing eye. He'd never been much of a seer. Sure, he could use divining methods to gain hints at what might come, but Morgana had always been the real seer, not him. And really, who could possibly mistake a dragon as a dark portent?

* * *

(1) "A bloody dream diary?" Ron fumed as they made their way to Defense. "As if we don't have enough homework, we have to start keeping a bloody dream diary."

"At least we can just make things up," pointed out Harry.

Merlin arched an eyebrow at the blatant cheating and Harry shrugged. "It's the only way to please her. The more misery there is, the more she likes it."

Though still slightly disapproving, Merlin didn't comment. He completely understood.

The three of them filed into the Defense classroom. Umbridge was sitting at her desk, dressed in a revolting pink cardigan with a little bow perched at what was supposed to be a jaunty angle in her hair. Merlin thought it made her look like an overgrown toddler.

Unsure of how the new teacher would react, the class kept silent. Hermione hurried in a few seconds after he, Harry, and Ron did and the four of them made for seats in the middle of the classroom. There were only three seats available next to each other Merlin opted to sit one row in front of them, and nearest the windows.

Once the class had settled down, Umbridge smiled and simpered, "Well, good afternoon, class."

There were a few mumbled responses.

"Now, that won't do," she said disapprovingly. "You are to reply, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Let's try that, shall we. Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back dutifully. Merlin couldn't help but feel like he was five years old.

"Wonderful! Now, wands away please. They won't be necessary for this lesson."

There was a lot of unhappy muttering as everyone did as they were told. She flicked her wand at the board at the front of the room and the words " Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles" appeared in chalk as if written by an invisible hand.

 _While a quick return to the basics after four different teachers isn't necessarily a bad idea, I doubt that's what she actually has planned,_ Merlin thought tiredly.

"Your education has been woefully disrupted and fragmented," said Umbridge sweetly. "It seems that your previous teachers did not follow ministry curriculum and you are far behind OWL level. You will be pleased to know that we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered and Ministry approved course for the rest of the year."

She waved her wand again and more words appeared. Merlin raised his eyebrows at the course aims.

_Understanding the principle underlying defensive magic? Well that sounds all right, even if it is more suited for a first year class, but placing the use of defensive magic in context for practical use is ridiculous. The only way to learn, no matter what age, is to actually use the magic. And really, learning to recognize situations were defensive magic can legally be used is just an excuse to brainwash the students with ministry drivel._

Merlin tried desperately to keep a handle on his magic, which was responding instinctively to his annoyance. It wouldn't do to blast a Professor, even one that was a ministry stooge, through the classroom wall.

"Do you all have a copy of  _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Professor Umbridge asked, clasping her hands behind her like a little child reciting lines.

Once more, the class mumbled a response and she forced them to chant an answer back like toddlers before telling them to spend the rest of the class reading silently.

Merlin didn't even bother to open his book. He'd already read it and the whole thing was pointless. It didn't teach you anything about how to actually use magic, or anything that might be useful in keeping yourself alive. He was waiting for Umbridge to notice his "misbehavior."

But Hermione beat him to it. No sooner had Umbridge given the order to read than Hermione thrust her hand up in the air. Umbridge ignored her and over the next five minutes, everyone ceased attempting to plow through the monotonous drivel in front of them to stare at Hermione, whom none of them had ever seen neglect to open a book that was sitting in front of her. Umbridge was forced to address her.

"Did you have a question about the chapter?" she asked, pretending that she had only just noticed Hermione.

"Not about the chapter-"

"Well, that is the assignment. If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class," said Umbridge, smiling and showing her teeth.

"I have a question about the course aims," said Hermione.

Umbridge's smile became fixed and her eyebrows raised.

"And your name is-"

"Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger, what question could you possibly have about the course aims? They are perfectly clear if you read them carefully," said Umbridge, false sweetness dripping from her words.

"I noticed that nowhere in the course aims does it mention that we'll be using spells in a practical setting. Isn't the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to learn how to defend ourselves?" asked Hermione.

Merlin had to hand it to her. She was rather brilliant.

With a soft, silvery laugh that sent shivers down the spines of every person in the classroom, Umbridge replied, "Why, I can't imagine why you'd ever need to use defensive spells in my classroom, Miss Granger. Surely, you don't expect to be attacked in class?"

"You mean, we're not going to be using magic at all," gasped Ron.

"If a student wishes to make a comment, they must raise their hand, Mr-"

"Weasley," Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air. But she promptly turned her back on him and ignored him. Harry and Hermione had their hands in the air as well. Umbridge glanced at Harry for the briefest moment before turning to Hermione.

"Was there something else, Miss Granger?"

"While we may not be attacked in class, isn't it true that the only way to really learn spells is to perform them? Isn't that the point of the whole class?"

"As you are not a ministry approved education expert, I do not see how you could know whether that is 'the point of the whole class' or not. Wizards far more experienced than you have approved this curriculum. It is entirely risk free."

"Not if we're going to be attacked-" Harry objected, but Umbridge cut him off.

"Hand, Mr. Potter."

She ignored him when he did and instead turned to Dean, who had his hand rasised.

"But Harry's right. If we're attacked-"

"I repeat, you are not going to be attacked in my class," Umbridge smiled superiorly.

"No but-"

"I do not wish to criticize the way this school is run," she said unconvincingly, "but you have exposed to some very irresponsible teachers, not to mention dangerous half breeds."

Merlin felt his blood boil. There wasn't anything wrong with being a werewolf and Remus Lupin was one of the most honestly decent people he'd ever met. He was saved accidentally giving himself away when Dean said hotly, "If you mean Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever had-"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas. As I was saying, you have been frightened into believing that you are going to be attacked at every turn."

"No we haven't," Hermione said.

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger. It is my understanding that my predecessor performed illegal spells on you."

"Yeah, well he was a nutter," grumbled Seamus. "Mind you, we still learned loads."

"Your hand is not up," said Umbridge, sounding like a broken record. "It is the opinion of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge is sufficient for you to pass your examination, which is the point of school. And your name is?" She turned to Parvati, who had raised her hand up rather tentatively.

"You mean we're not going to be performing the spells until it's time for the OWLS?"

"If you have studied that theory that will be more than enough," Umbridge trilled.

"What good is theory in the real world?" demanded Harry.

She laughed. "This is a school, not the real world."

"School is supposed to prepare us for the real world," said Merlin speaking for the first time.

"Hand, Mr..."

"Lyonnesse," Merlin said sharply, continuing quickly so that she couldn't ignore him. "And my point still stands. The purpose of school isn't just to prepare us for a test, it is to prepare us to survive. Just knowing the theory isn't good enough. I can read all the theory I want on chess, but that doesn't mean I can beat a master on my first try."

"We are talking about spells, not chess, Mr. Lyonnesse," said Umbridge through her teeth.

"The idea is the same. By your claim, anyone here could pick up a book on the theory of Old Magic and perform spells worthy of Merlin after simply studying theory and that is not possible. And," he continued, never looking away from her, "while it is unlikely that we will be attacked in your classroom, it is possible that we will be attacked outside of school and it is your responsibility to ensure that we can handle ourselves."

"Who do you think would want to attack children?" Umbridge said with the air of someone who thought it was just too absurd consider.

"Let's think," said Harry sarcastically. "Maybe...Lord Voldemort."

The class went silent and Merlin cursed under his breath. He had the feeling Umbridge had been waiting for Harry to do something like that.

"Mr. Potter, I would thank you not to spread lies in my class," Umbridge hissed. "Ten points from Gryffindor and let me make something very clear. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned from the dead, as you have been told-"

"He was never dead," said Harry heatedly. "I saw him! I fought him!"

"Detention!" Umbridge screeched triumphantly. "That is a malicious lie. The Ministry guarantees that you are not in danger from a Dark wizard. If you have any fears outside of class, do come and see me. I am here to help. If you will kindly continue reading, Basics for Beginners on page five."

Harry stood, shaking from head to foot. "So you're saying that Cedric just dropped dead?"

The room couldn't get anymore silent.

"Mr. Diggory's death was a tragic accident and nothing more," said Umbridge with finality and unconvincing sorrow.

"It was murder," Harry said slowly and forcefully. "He was murdered on Voldemort's order and you know it."

Umbridge's flaccid face went blank. "Come here, Mr. Potter."

He seized his bags and stomped up to her desk. She handed him a note that she had written and smiled at him. "Take this to Professor McGonagall."

Harry nodded stiffly and all eyes followed him out of the room.

"The Dark Lord has not returned, no matter what lies Mr. Potter is spreading," Umbridge said, her voice a fraction less breathy and girly. "You are in no danger."

Unable to take it any longer, Merlin rose to his feet, his hands balled into his fists as he struggled to keep hold of his magic. "Whether Voldemort has risen or not, it's rather sad that people the likes of you can't find anything better to do than demonize a young boy who witnessed the death of a friend. But I suppose that it's more important to make sure that the Ministry saves face rather than deal with the possibility that an old threat has returned."

"Mr. Lyonnesse, you have been given quite the opportunity to complete your education after the woeful circumstances under which your parents raised you. Don't waste it," Umbridge said, her eyes flashing.

"If you think a thinly veiled threat like that is enough to frighten me, I suggest you think again," he laughed. "And if you think that you have any real control over this school, I suggest you get your head checked."

Ron just managed to stifle a snigger. Keeping her face carefully blank, Umbridge said, "Detention, Mr. Lyonnesse. My office at five o'clock."

"It will be my pleasure."

Merlin sat back down and stuffed his Defense book into his bag, pulling out his History book as he did. Maybe he could get a little work done.

"Mr. Lyonnesse," Umbridge called. "You are not to be doing any other work in the class. If you have finished chapter one, please move on to the next chapter."

"I've read the entire book, Professor. Would you like to test me?"

A sly gleam appeared in her eye and she began firing off questions on the most minute details to trip Merlin up. He answered them flawlessly. After the theory behind Old Magic, this idiocy was easy.

Merlin successfully wasted the entire class on showing Umbridge up and the best part was, she couldn't punish him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) After the page break, this chapter was heavily influenced by the Ootp. I did change some of it around to fit with what I was writing, but the situation happened very similarly to the book and I saw no point in trying to change what Rowling wrote better.


	7. Chapter 6

The wards were a far bigger mess than Merlin had anticipated. They'd been layered over each other with no regard for the condition of the previous ward. Some had failed or had altered in composition. It had been an ordeal separating them and figuring out if they were worth keeping. Eventually, he'd ended up getting rid of ninety-percent of the wards and reconstructing them from scratch. It had taken most of the afternoon and left him almost completely exhausted.

Which had been his intention. Given the way his temper and his magic had reacted during their first class, he hadn't been sure that he could control himself during a detention with the toad. Merlin was hoping that if he was exhausted, he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally turning Umbridge into a real toad.

He met Harry outside her office door. The teen looked like he would rather face another dragon than go inside.

"Not looking forward to this?" guessed Merlin.

"You have no idea," grumbled Harry. "Angelina's going to kill me. I've got detention during keeper tryouts. She's furious and she wants me to ask Umbridge to let me out for the tryouts."

Merlin winced. There had been a couple of times when Arthur had been annoyed at him for missing something because he'd been obligated to be elsewhere for his duties as a warlock. It was never pretty.

"I wouldn't ask. She won't take it well if you do. You'll just have to tell Angelina that there's no way you can be there."

Harry nodded miserably.

"We should just get this over with," Merlin sighed.

Harry nodded and knocked once on the door.

"Come in!" called a sugary sweet voice.

Merlin and Harry exchanged resigned looks before reluctantly pushing open the door and walking inside.

_What in the name of Avalon? I think I'm in hell!_

The office was pink. Very, very pink. The kind of pink that looked like it was trying to seem youthful and was succeeding only in looking rather sick. Vases filled with dried flowers, each with its own lacy doily, sat on almost every available surface. The walls were covered in decorated plates that housed large, brilliantly colored kittens that had lurid bows tied around their necks. They frisked across the porcelain surfaces.

 _Nothing Morgause or Mordred ever did to me even comes close to this torture,_  he thought dryly.  _This is absolutely horrid._

 _I'm sure you're exaggerating,_ Kilgharrah chuckled from his perch back in the fifth year boys dorm. Given the way that Umbridge had reacted to Kilgharrah's presence at the trial, they'd both thought it best that he remain out of sight during the detention.

 _Are you so sure?_  asked Merlin, sending Kilgharrah a mental picture of the room.

_Ah, perhaps you are more correct than I originally thought. Good luck, young warlock._

_Thanks,_  Merlin grumbled.

"Hem, hem."

Merlin turned at the sound of the would-be polite cough. As he did, he noticed that Harry had a similarly disgusted look on his face. He fixed an emotionless look on his face as he turned to Umbridge, the toad herself surrounded by kittens. She was wearing a horrendous set of patterned robes that all but blended in with the tablecloth draped over her desk.

She smiled sweetly. "Good evening, Mr. Potter. Mr. Lyonnesse."

"Evening," Harry replied stiffly.

Merlin inclined his head slightly. "Professor."

"Take a seat," she said, pointing to a small table covered in a lacy table cloth. Two pieces of parchment lay in front of two, uncomfortable looking chairs.

Merlin took his seat without a word. After a moment's hesitation, Harry followed.

"This," Umbridge began once they were seated, "is your punishment for telling nasty attention-seeking lies," her eyes rested on Harry for a moment before looking to Merlin, "and speaking against the Ministry. You will be attending detention for the remainder of the week, at five o'clock sharp."

"Excuse me, professor," interrupted Merlin, "but I was under the impression that this was my only detention."

"Oh, no, Mr. Lyonnesse," she smiled. "You will be here for the entire week. Do you understand?"

Merlin nodded slightly. "Of course, Professor. Forgive my misunderstanding."

That tripped Umbridge up a bit. If Merlin had learned anything from watching Arthur blow up at people, it was that you really did attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. He'd discovered that politeness could be quite disarming.

She quickly masked her surprise by smiling. "It seems you've already learned to control your temper. Very good. Now, you're going to be writing lines for me. Not with your quill, Mr. Potter," she added when Harry reached down reflexively for his bag. "I have a very special one that you'll be using."

Turning to her desk, she produced two long black quills with strangely sharp points that glinted in the candle light.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. He'd seen that kind of quill before, he just couldn't place it. The quill tingled in his fingers as he took it from Umbridge, as though there was magic in it that didn't sit well with his own power.

"You will write  _I must not tell lies_ ," Umbridge told them.

"How many times?" asked Harry through gritted teeth.

Umbridge's smile widened creepily. "Until the message sinks in."

The wording gave Merlin pause. He didn't like the sound of that. Gazing at the quill, he twirled it slowly in his fingers. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. Over the years, he had seen so many magical artifacts, that they all blended together.

"You haven't given us any ink," said Harry.

"It won't be necessary."

Merlin looked up at Umbridge sharply and then back down at the quill in his hands. He quickly ceased his examination of the quill and set it to the parchment to begin his lines.

Harry drew in a pained breath. Merlin glanced over at him concernedly. Words glistened on the parchment in dark red ink. Only it wasn't ink. It was blood. Harry was staring at his hand in horror. The very same words that gleamed on the parchment were etched into the back of his hand.

 _It's a blood quill,_ Merlin realized. Despite how tired he was and how much power he had expended on the wards, he magic roiled within him and it was all he could do to keep it under control. Even then the plates rattled slightly against the walls.  _She's using a damn blood quill on us._

 _That woman is quite lucky that I am not there,_  growled Kilgharrah in the back of Merlin's mind.  _She wouldn't be walking out of that office._

_At the rate things are going, I won't let her walk out of her unscathed._

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Umbridge asked, a lilt to her words that dared them to complain. Merlin exchanged a look with Harry. Through wordless communication, they agreed to say nothing. It would only mean that she had won.

Merlin looked down at his parchment and quickly wrote  _I must not tell lies._ He bit back a hiss of pain as the words appeared in his elegant script on the back of his hand. He quickly did the math in his head. By the time Umbridge let them out of detention, the back of his hand would be completely raw. By the end of the week, he wouldn't be surprised if the cut didn't heal over.

" _Diffrwyth,"_ he breathed.

He immediately felt that back of his hand go numb. Another line proved that the spell had indeed worked. Merlin didn't feel the words being etched into his skin.

Discreetly, he reached under the table and gently laid a hand on Harry's leg, muttering the spell again, just as Harry wrote another line. Merlin quickly cast the silencing charm and whispered,

"Write slowly. The spell only numbs the pain. It doesn't erase the damage. I'll explain later."

Harry nodded and kept writing a pace that would be believable for someone who was carving their hand open. Merlin did the same and removed the silencing charm so that Umbridge wouldn't become suspicious.

It went on for hours. Every once in a while, Merlin felt a twinge through the numbing spell. His own blood glistened at him from the parchment. The blood quill had been invented for signing contracts and other such actions that required blood so that those involved didn't have to slice themselves open with a dagger. They had not been designed for this. But, just as with so many spells and magical objects throughout the centuries, it's true purpose had been perverted.

Darkness fell outside, but neither Merlin nor Harry asked after the time. They just continued scratching away at the parchment. But Merlin knew that they had been there far longer than any normal detention.

 _She cannot keep you there any longer,_  growled Kilgharrah.  _I'm going to Dumbledore._

_No. Don't. She can't know about our connection to the Headmaster. If we interfere now, it will only force the Ministry to take further action. We need to sit it out._

_This cannot be allowed to continue._

_I know that. But neither can we take an overt stand against her._

There was a silence, during which Merlin could practically picture Kilgharrah's eyes narrowing.  _You have a plan, do you not?_

_Half of one, at least. I'll discuss it with you later. I believe the detention may be coming to an end._

* * *

"Come here," Umbridge said from the front of the room.

Harry glanced over at Myrddin. He seemed unnaturally calm, though there was a look of pained concentration in his eyes. As they stood, Myrddin leaned over and whispered under the cover of the chairs scraping across the floor, "I'm going to remove the spell. It might hurt a little, but I don't want her to be suspicious."

Harry nodded his understanding and braced himself for the discomfort that flared across his hand. He grit his teeth against it. Myrddin shot him an encouraging look and the two of them walked up to Umbridge's desk.

"Hand," she ordered.

Harry did as she asked, suppressing the urge to flinch violently when she grabbed his wrist with her stubby, ring-covered fingers so that she could examine his hand. The skin was red and irritated where the words had appeared. Satisfied, she took Myrddin's hand and did the same.

"Well," she tutted, "it seems I haven't quite managed to make an impression. We'll just have to try again tomorrow night. On your way, gentlemen."

Biting his tongue against the smart remark he'd like to have made, Harry threw his bag over his shoulder and hurried out the room, followed closely by Myrddin. The halls were deserted. It had to be after midnight.

"Are teachers allowed to keep us so long for a detention?" asked Myrddin.

"Not usually," Harry sighed. "But I doubt there is anything they can do to stop Umbridge."

"Well, that's just brilliant."

"That it is," grumbled Harry.

They fell into a tired silence and Harry's thoughts turned once more to the strange things he'd noticed about Myrddin's behavior. He'd seemed so calm in Umbridge's office, as though he was completely unaffected by her presence. His reaction to the quill when they'd realized that it cut into their skin was just as strange. Harry had practically felt the anger rolling off of Myrddin. He'd felt magic crackling through the air. It was amazing that Umbridge hadn't noticed anything.

Then there was the numbing spell Myrddin had used to make it a bit easier to get through the detention. Harry had just barely heard the incantation Myrddin had used, but it had sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. And Myrddin hadn't used a wand. Just touching Harry had been enough.

"How did you cast that numbing spell?" he asked shrewdly.

"It's nothing. Just something I picked up during my travels with my parents before they died," Myrddin replied. "It's a foreign spell. I'm not sure what the origin of it is. A healer I met once used it."

"But you performed it wandlessly."

Myrddin shrugged. "That's actually nothing special. The way I understand it, the spell is meant to be performed wandlessly."

 _Of course,_  Harry sighed.  _He has an explanation for everything. I wonder if that's because he's telling the truth or because he's got a story figured out. I wish I could figure out what he's hiding._

He watched Myrddin discretely as they made their way to the common room. If he hadn't been looking for something, he'd have never noticed Myrddin subconsciously rubbed the back of his hand, as though to sooth the irritated skin. A faint glow was left behind and the redness was gone. Harry stared. He hadn't even used a spell.

 _Who_ is  _he?_

Harry was still asking himself that question when he collapsed onto his bed. His homework could wait until first thing in the morning.

* * *

The moment Harry disappeared behind the curtains of his bed, Kilgharrah swopped down from the rafters and landed on Merlin's bed. Sighing, Merlin pulled his curtains closed and cast a powerful silencing charm.

"How could you sit there and let that...that toad do that to you and Harry?" Kilgharrah hissed.

Merlin glared at him. "What choice did I have, Kilgharrah? I would have succeeded only in making her angrier. There was nothing I could do unless I wanted to play my hand. I have to chose my battles here."

"And this is one that you should have fought," the dragon hissed.

"What would it have accomplished?" demanded Merlin. "If I wanted to avoid getting into further trouble for mouthing off, I would have been forced to reveal that fact that I am bloody Merlin. That would have been all over the wizarding world within a few hours. I'd have lost what little advantage I have. I will do something about Umbrdige, believe that, Kilgharrah. But I will do it by sneaking around, just as I once did in Camelot."

Kilgharrah let out a sigh and regarded Merlin coolly with amber eyes. "No matter how much I may not like the situation, I see your logic, young warlock. What do you plan to do?"

"I need to find a way to alter the effects of the blood quill," he said tiredly. "I have a couple of ideas. The complicated bit is mimicking the effects of the quill without arousing Umbridge's suspicion and finding a way to pass it along to the others who will inevitably end up in detention with her. It's a lot to think about."

"I am not sure that it can be done as you describe, young warlock." Kilgharrah sighed. "Not without making Umbridge suspicious."

"Thank you for pointing that out," Merlin grumbled. "Avalon! I feel more helpless now than I ever did in Camelot."

* * *

Over the next few days, Merlin came to the conclusion that, no matter how dire things seemed to be for him, he had it marginally better than Harry. Accustomed as he was to operating on short sleep - a habit that had followed him from his days as a manservant and later as court sorcerer - Merlin had not only been able to rise early and finish his work, but he had later been able to pay attention in his classes. Not that he really needed to. He already knew everything they were going over.

Harry had no such advantage. He labored through his work as best he could. He often skipped breakfast to scribble down something for the homework he'd neglected during detention. That homework got suitably poor marks which inevitably resulted in yet more homework. Merlin saw him struggling to stay awake in classes and his practical work failed without the necessary concentration and practice. On top of that, Harry had to deal with a very irate Angelina, who was still peeved that he was missing Quidditch tryouts and taking every chance to remind him of it, and he was still having recurring nightmare. Merlin often heard Harry waking in the night. The other boys either slept like the dead or Harry had put a silencing charm on his curtains that Merlin was managing to hear through, because no one else seemed to have noticed.

The only thing that made the situation less horrible was the fact that Merlin had been able to come up with a plan to deal with the effects of the blood quill. He fashioned a simple leather cuff similar to the one he usually wore and enchanted them both with a variation of the numbing spell that would activate only in the presence of the magic that fueled the quill, a healing charm that would enhance the natural healing process used when the blood quill cut into the skin, and a glamor that would approximate the damage done. This would ensure that the damage done by using the quill for extending periods of time would be minimal and that the lingering discomfort would not effect them later.

Merlin had given the bracelet to Harry saying that Kilgarrah had helped greatly with the spellwork and with the idea in the first place. He wasn't entirely sure that Harry had believed him, but he had taken the bracelet and worn it during their next detention. Merlin was relieved to find that the bracelets worked perfectly and Umbridge was none the wiser.

The solution was also satisfactory to Kilgharrah for the time being, something for which Merlin was intensely grateful. Despite being the size of kneazle, Kilgharrah was downright frightening when he was displeased. As it was, Merlin had to put up with the dragon's grumbling every time he came within twenty paces of Umbridge. It was beginning to drive Merlin mad.

He and Harry were currently trekking back to their dormitory after their second to last detention. In Merlin's opinion, that last detention couldn't come fast enough. Harry was practically drooping with exhaustion, but he was refusing to admit it to himself or to anyone else. Merlin sighed.

_Would it be ill advised to knock him out, drag him to the hospital wing, and bribe Madam Pomfrey to keep him there for a couple of days?_

Kilgharrah snorted.  _Though he undoubtably needs the rest, I doubt Harry would thank you for the interference. It is good that this ordeal is almost at an end. I do not think he could take the pressure much longer._

_That will only happen if Umbridge doesn't manage to goad Harry into mouthing off to her again._

Kilgharrah mentally grimaced. Due to all the pressure he was under - and a certain connection to Voldemort that Dumbledore was stubbornly refusing to explain to anyone - Harry was operating on a very short temper. It was only a matter of time before he got into trouble with Umbridge again.

"Ron?"

Harry stopped short as he rounded the corner, just a step in front of Merlin, to avoid ploughing into Ron, who had just stepped cautiously out from behind a statue, clutching his broom, which he quickly tried to hide behind his back.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, though Merlin noticed that his ears had turned red as they were wont to do when he was embarrassed. It was something Merlin had noticed was common to the Weasley family.

"Come on, you can tell me," Harry frowned. "What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm - well, I'm hiding from Fred and Geroge. They came by with a bunch of first years. I bet they're testing stuff again. I mean, they can't do it in the common room with Hermione around, can they?"

He was talking very fast and seemed distinctly nervous.

"Do you often lurk in the halls after hours with a broom?" asked Merlin.

Ron reddened further.

"You haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.

"I - well - well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?" Ron said defensively, turning redder with every passing second. "I - I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," said Harry. Merlin nodded fervently as Ron blinked. "It's a brilliant idea!" Harry continued eagerly. "It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper. Are you good?"

"I'm not bad," said Ron, who looked immensely relieved that Harry wasn't laughing himself silly. "Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."

"So you've been practicing at night?"

"Every evening since Tuesday...just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaflles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be." Ron looked nervous and anxious. "Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up at tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."

Merlin sighed. The twins were rather hilarious, but sometimes they didn't stop to think that their jokes and incessant teasing could be a bit harsh.

"I wish I was going to be there," said Harry bitterly as they resumed walking toward the common room together. Merlin trailed behind to let the two friends talk, until he heard Ron say,

"Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?"

Realizing that he'd flashed Ron a look at his hand when he scratched his nose, Harry tried to hide it behind his back. He had about as much success as Ron had had with his broomstick.

"It's just a cut - it's nothing -"

Ron grabbed Harry's forearm and twisted it so that he was staring straight at the back of Harry's hand. He stared at the words that seemed to be carved into his friend's asking for a moment, before releasing Harry, looking rather sick.

"I thought you said she was just giving you lines?"

 _Of course,_ Merlin sighed.  _He didn't tell them. Bloody noble git who doesn't want anyone to know he's in trouble. Just like Arthur._

Looking resigned, Harry quickly recounted everything about the time he and Merlin had been with Umbridge.

"That old hag!" Ron hissed in a revolted whisper as they stopped outside the Fat Lady. Merlin gently prodded her awake and gave the password. She swung open, grumbling softly. They climbed through, Ron still cursing Umbridge.

"She's sick! Go to McGonagall. Say something!"

"No," said Harry at once. "I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me."

"Got to you?" You can't let her get away with this!"

Sensing a brewing argument, Merlin stepped in. "There's nothing we can do. Umbridge has too many connections with the Ministry. If McGonagall tries anything, who knows what Umbridge might do to her. The best thing we can do is give Umbridge no reason to punish us further."

"What about Dumbledore?" demanded Ron.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"Why not? Ron and Merlin asked in unison.

"He's got enough on his mind," Harry grumbled.

Merlin suppressed the urge to groan. He'd warned Dumbledore about keeping Harry of what as going on with Voldemort. Giving him a bit of information about what the Order had been up to during the summer wasn't nearly enough. There was still far too much that Harry didn't know. Considering the fact that he did know that he was in the middle of the war, it really was dangerous that he wasn't being trusted with the details. It was only a matter of time before it came back to haunt Dumbledore where Harry was concerned.

But as it was, he and Ron could only watch resignedly as Harry stamped up the stairs to the dormitory. Ron shook his head.

"One of these days, his tendency to be a bloody noble git is going to get him to trouble," he grumbled.

Merlin nodded tiredly in agreement.

* * *

The next evening, Merlin and Harry reported for their final detention. It was the first time that week that Merlin hadn't had a chance to work of the majority of his energy before hand. He could already feel his power roiling within him as he struggled to maintain his temper at the thought of allowing Umbridge to torture Harry and him one more time. This was going to be even less pleasant than usual.

He and Harry walked reluctantly into the office. Umbridge smiled at them and gestured toward the table with the now familiar parchment and quills.

"You know what to do," she said.

They sat down wordlessly and got to work.

Harry kept glancing toward the dark window as they scratched out their lines. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was holding tryouts. Ron could be out there at that very moment. Umbridge grinned in unholy pleasure at Harry's discomfort. She had mentioned something about the tryouts the night before. Luckily, Harry had listened to Merlin when the warlock had warned him that she might say something and had kept his mouth shut.

 _I think it is high time that I did something to make her life a little more difficult,_  thought Merlin grimly.  _There is little I can do to actually oppose her, but I can give her a little hell. I can even think of a couple of pranksters who would be more than happy to aid me. By the time I am finished, the Ministry will regret interfering in this school._

 _That is a cause that I would gladly be a part of,_  said Kilgharrah, sounding a little vindictive.

_Your wisdom and assistance would be greatly appreciated._

Merlin passed the rest of the detention thinking of the various ways that he could use his knowledge of ancient and now obscure magics to mess with Umbridge. He had to force himself to stay focused enough to concentrate on making it appear as though writing the lines pained him.

Thankfully, Harry was just as distracted by the Quidditch tryouts that he was managing to watch through the window. Illusionary blood dripped down his wrist with every sentence. Merlin was suddenly very thankful that he and Kilgharrah had thought of the bracelets. With them, there would be hardly any indication that the detentions had ever happened. He quickly cast a silent spell that created blood spatters across the parchment. Harry paused slightly when he noticed, then glanced at Merlin and nodded slightly.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" asked Umbridge in a soft voice a little while later. Merlin carefully laid his quill on the table, rather impressed that he had managed to control his temper. Plotting revenge was awfully therapeutic.

Umbridge took Merlin's wrist first and examined the cut on his hand. Her lips quirked into a satisfied smile before she moved on to Harry.

No sooner had she touched his wrist than Harry jerked it away from her sharply, holding it against his chest and staring at Umbridge in mingled surprise and barely concealed horror.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it," she said softly, seemingly pleased by Harry's reaction. Harry didn't say anything. He just stared at her with a strangely closed off expression. Dread pooled in Merlin's stomach. What had he missed?

Umbridge smiled at them in a way that was probably supposed to be motherly, but was only malicious and condescending. "I think I have made my point. You may both go."

The moment she was done speaking, Harry grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room. Merlin smiled slightly and shook his head, pretending that he thought Harry was just anxious to learn the outcome of the Quidditch tryouts. But he knew better. Something had happened.

_Kilgharrah, I don't want Harry to become any more suspicious of me. Would you mind keeping out of sight and watching to see if he says anything about what happened to Ron or Hermione._

_Of course,_ Kilgharrah replied.

Not for the first time, Merlin was glad that he wasn't alone.

He trudged through the halls, in no great hurry to return to the common room. After so many years alone it was rather tiring to be around that many people all the time, even if he had missed it. He was tempted to go up to the North Tower and break the spells on Arthur's portrait, but decided that, even though he needed the help keeping an eye on things, it could wait a day or two so that he could thoroughly humiliate Arthur in the process.

When Merlin finally reached the common room, he found himself in the middle of a celebration. Ron had apparently made Keeper. He, Harry, and Hermione were talking in the corner. One of the seventh years offered Merlin a butterbeer. He declined, claiming that he was tired and made his escape to the dormitory.

 _It was his scar,_  said Kilgharrah just as Merlin closed the door.

 _What?_ he asked sharply.

_When Umbridge touched him, Harry's scar pained him. They seem to think that there is the possibility that she is possessed as Quirrell was._

_We'd know if that was the case._

_Hermione has suggested that it is just a coincidence and that Harry was once more sensing what Voldemort was feeling at the time. She wants him to go to Dumbledore, but he has refused once again._

_Oh, for the love of Avalon,_  Merlin groaned.  _I bloody warned him._

Kilgharrah sighed.  _Perhaps you should say something?_

_Harry already has his suspicions of me. If I suddenly become an expert on his scar, then he will most likely cease to trust me at all. No. I'll have to convince Dumbledore._

_It is a little risky for you to say something and you know Dumbledore will not wish to. Would one of the other Order members be willing?_

_I'm sure Sirius or Remus would if they knew the situation, but Dumbledore managed to get them to swear an oath not to speak of anything concerning the prophecy without his permission. I believe this is tied into it. But it may be worth a try if I can't convince Dumbledore to listen to me._

_Indeed. Sirius especially would be of assistance. Harry did wish to speak to him, but Hermione, quite rightly, reminded him that that would not be wise to put in a letter. Harry would listen to him._

_That is true. And it reminds me that I need to do something about Sirius being trapped in that godforsaken house. If he stays there much longer with Kreacher as his only constant company, his own memories will succeed in driving him mad where the Dementors failed. Dumbledore is misguided in keeping him there._

_But where would he go, young warlock? He is a wanted murderer._

Merlin thought for a moment. Then smirked as an idea struck him.  _Maybe he doesn't really need to leave. If we could actually get that place cleaned up and looking less like a den for Dark Wizards, then he might be able to forget some of his darker memories. I don't see why Dumbledore didn't ask a couple of the house elves to see to the place when first began using it as headquarters._

_A deceptively simple solution. That may very well work. Though there are a few details that need to be seen to. Such as Kreacher and some of the Dark artifacts._

_I can deal with that later. For the moment, I am going to speak with Dumbledore about Harry. That is far more pressing._

Kilgharrah said nothing, but Merlin sensed his agreement. He quickly drew the curtains around his four poster and cast a complicated little spell that would make it appear as though he was there and keep any of his dorm mates from checking on him. That done, he snapped his fingers and appeared before the door to Dumbledore's office in a gust of wind. He knocked once then strode inside.

Dumbledore looked up in surprise, then smiled when he saw who it was.

"Ah. Merlin. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

Merlin sat down slowly. "Have you done anything to tell Harry about the Prophecy?"

"I do not think it to be wise," said Dumbledore carefully.

"Why not?" he pressed, curious as to whether the headmaster would answer him.

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I believe that here is a connection between Harry and Lord Voldemort that allows them to see into each other's minds. At the moment, Voldemort is unaware of the full prophecy. If he gleans the remainder of it from Harry's mind, he is likely to act far more swiftly and devastatingly."

"Which of course is an excuse to avoid Harry completely," Merlin said dryly, cocking an eyebrow in a very Gaius-like way. "Do you realize what you are doing?" he demanded. "You've almost completely isolated Harry. He feels like he can't talk to you about things that he should really be talking to you about. He needs to know what's going on so he can deal with it."

"Harry deserves a chance to be normal," Dumbledore said quietly. "I do not wish to burden him with this."

"Have you met Harry? Are we talking about the same person?" laughed Merlin. "This is the Harry Potter that snooped and investigated until he figured out what the sorcerer's stone was and who was after it. The same person that went after it to protect it. The same person who again took it upon himself to find out what was attacking the school and petrifying the students, who went into the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny, who risked everything to save the godfather he barely knew and whom he had spent most of the year hating. The same person who made it through the Triwzard Tournament despite being fourteen years old. The same person who dueled Voldemort and escaped from him and his death eaters.

"Harry has been through too much for you to be keeping this from him. The only way he has survived everything that has happened to him is by being in control and by confronting it head on. You are backing him into a corner. If you don't start trusting him, if you don't do something about this connection, he's going to act on insufficient information, because it's what he believes he has to do, and who knows what will happen."

Without waiting for Dumbledore to answer, Merlin rose and left the room in a swirl of wind. He landed on his bed with a soft thump. Letting out a tired sigh, he slumped back against his pillows and closed his eyes. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought.


	8. Chapter 7

Saturday morning came far too quickly for Kilgharrah. At Merlin's request, he was keeping an eye on Harry and his two closest friends as it would be suspicious for Merlin himself to be around them as often as was necessary. Kilgharrah had his ways of remaining unseen and could easily keep an eye on the boy while Merlin kept up the charade that was required of him.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry was a naturally early riser and, given the ridiculously long torture sessions he had endured every night, he was usually busy until the wee hours of the morning attempting to finish his various assignments. Kilgharrah had been far older than Merlin when the Old Magic had removed them from time and the long hours were telling on him.

He grumbled quietly and swooped out of the dormitory behind Harry, following him into the common room. Kilgharrah landed on the rafters to watch him.

Harry bent over a piece of parchment and labored over it, clearly choosing his words carefully. Given the conversation he and Merlin had had the night before, Kilgharrah used a bit of magic to read the letter over Harry's shoulder. He felt a little guilty at the intrusion, but they needed to know how best to aid the boy.

It was a bit difficult to decipher the messy scrawl from his position, but Kilgharrah managed.

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend._

_We've got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because the thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge._

_We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon. I'm a bit worried about Myrddin, too. There's just something off about him._

_Please write back quickly._

_Best,_

_Harry_

Kilgharrah frowned, surprised that Harry was already becoming so suspicious. He and Merlin had known from the beginning that there would be issues with their story. Merlin simply knew too much and had to be too involved for certain flaws in their tale to remain unnoticed. Dumbledore had smoothed things over with the Order by telling them that there were details that he knew but couldn't disclose. It appeared that Harry either didn't know that or had decided that he still wanted to know what was going on. Given his history with mysteries, Kilgharrah was leaning toward the later, which meant Merlin was going to have to give something away as a sign of good faith.

"This is turning out to be far more complicated than we anticipated," Kilgharrah grumbled to himself. "I hope Merlin has a plan or I fear we will have only made things worse rather than better."

It was going to be a very long day, he decided, as he flew out of the portrait hole after Harry.

* * *

Cloaked in shadows, Merlin crept through Hogwarts to the Room of Requirement. What he was about to do required privacy. It was time consuming, required absolute silence, and was obviously something the average wizard couldn't do. There was a slim chance that, if they knew about the existence of the room, a student could enter while he was busy. Since his only other choice was the Chamber of Secrets, Merlin had decided that he'd try not to leave any loopholes when he opened the Room of Requirement and hope for the best.

He paced in front of the bare stretch of wall, concentrating on a comfortable place where he could channel his power without being disturbed. A door materialized on the third pass. Making sure that no one was watching, Merlin ducked inside.

The Room of Requirement had transformed itself into a lush forest clearing. There were even birds chirping in the trees. A moss covered stone engraved with symbols of the Old Religion stood in the center of the clearing. Overhead, stars glinted through the leaves overhead, casting everything with a silver tint. It was an exact replica of a druidic haven he'd once visited.

He smiled. "Perfect."

Throwing up a shield that would slow anyone who managed to find a loophole into the room and give him time to hide, Merlin crossed the clearing and laid a hand on the stone. He could feel the magical aura pulsing from it.

"The Founders did an excellent job building this place," he said, gazing around. "It's a natural conduit for magic. I can't believe the school was able to conjure this up. If I didn't know better, I'd say that I was actually at the shrine."

He flicked his wrist and the torches that lined the edges of the clearing sprang to life, casting flickering shadows over the stone and filling the clearing with warmth. With another word, the carvings on the stone began to glow with a gentle, golden light. Merlin slid his bag off his shoulder and sank cross-legged onto the ground in front of the stone. He reached into his bag and pulled out the Crystal of Neahtid.

It had been in his keeping for centuries, but he'd rarely used it. After the disastrous consequences that had come the first time he'd attempted to change the future, not to mention the first time he'd used the crystal at all and foreseen Kilgharrah's attack on the city, Merlin had been hesitant to see into the future again. Usually, he'd been able to get by with following his instincts and scrying moments into the future, which was slightly different than having a vision.

This time, glimpsing just a few minutes into the future and getting an ambiguous sense for what was going to happen wouldn't cut it. Though he could predict how Harry would react to having so many important secrets kept from him, Merlin couldn't be sure exactly what the fallout was going to be. That was the one thing he needed to know if he was going to do any good. Which meant he was going to have to do something he really didn't want to if he as going to do his job.

Merlin held the crystal loosely in his hands and closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic to feel the power flowing through the clearing. He let himself become one with the world around him, with the very nature of magic. Once he was completely immersed in the Old Religion, he reached into the Crystal.

Pain knifed through his head and images burned against his eyelids...

...Harry back in detention with Umbridge...

..."You're less like your father than I thought"...

...The twins and Harry being banned from Quidditch...

...Harry in detention again...

...an article written by Rita Skeeter...

...Kreacher sneaking off to the Malfoys and telling them of Sirius' and Harry's almost father-son bond...

...students practicing spells in the Room of Requirement...

...a giant in the Forbidden Forest...

...Professor Dumbledore leaving Hogwarts...

...Harry collapsing during his O.W.L.s...

...Sirius falling into the veil and Remus holding Harry back...

Merlin gasped and dropped the crystal. Harry's pain at losing his godfather knifed through him with an intensity he hadn't felt since the Battle of Camlann. It was complimented by Remus' own nearly overwhelming grief. Merlin fought to regain control of his emotions, but it was hauntingly clear what that vision meant. If things continued the way they were, Harry would lose one of the most important people in his life. If the intensity of the vision was any indication, he would never truly get over it.

"Damn it. I warned him," Merlin hissed to himself. "I bloody well warned that old coot that he needed to tell Harry what was going on or there would be consequences. How in bloody Avalon am I going to stop this?"

He shoved the Crystal back into his bag. He'd learned more than enough for the time being and wanted nothing more to do with the cursed thing. Now he had to figure out what exactly to do with the knowledge he'd gained and how best to use it to change the future without simply ensuring that it comes to pass.

Taking a series of deep breaths, Merlin managed to calm himself a bit. He once more immersed himself in the magic of the room and began to search for answers in the Old Religion.

_How do I tell Harry, and the Order for that matter, how Voldemort survived fourteen years ago and how that helped him regain his body in June? How do I tell Harry that the reason Voldemort is after him is because of a prophecy that didn't even mean anything until Voldemort decided that it did? And how in Avalon's name do I tell Harry and the Order, especially Sirius, why Harry is the only one who can actually defeat Riddle?_

"By the Power of all sorcerers past, how the hell am I supposed to manage this?" he groaned out loud, feeling more helpless than he had for the past thousand years.

He didn't get an answer. It was times like these that Merlin really missed Gaius. Kilgharrah was a wealth of knowledge, but he just wasn't the same as the old physician. Gaius had just had a way of saying the one thing Merlin needed to hear.

Merlin lingered in the makeshift Druidic grove for a few more minutes before gathering his things and extinguishing the torches. He was no closer to an answer and he couldn't linger much longer or someone, most likely Harry, would become suspicious. Besides, his best chance of figuring out what to do next was to interact with the people he was meant to be helping.

The hall was deserted when he slipped out of the Room of Requirement. Late evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows at the end of the hall. Merlin cursed under his breath. He'd been in there the whole day. He must have spent more time than he'd thought in that vision.

_MERLIN!_

_Ack! Kilgharrah, why are you yelling?_

_I am yelling because I have been attempting to contact you for hours! Where have you been?_

_In the Room of Requirement looking for answers, as you well know. What is so important?_

The timber of Kilgharrah's thoughts became abruptly serious.  _I fear things are already spiraling out of Dumbledore's control. His decision to keep so much hidden from Harry, and the Order, is already having consequences._

Merlin looked up sharply, half expecting to see Kilgharrah in front of him.  _What? What happened?_

_Harry is more wary of you than we realized. He is worried enough that when he wrote to Sirius about the events of this past week, he mentioned you. Given his tendency to ferret out any secret around him, it may be best to reveal enough to make him happy, or he may come to the wrong conclusion._

_Of course. I was afraid that would be the case. I'll think of something to tell him. Is there something else?_

Rather than explain, Kilgharrah shared with Merlin a memory of Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting in the common room, doing their homework. An owl landed on the window, bearing a letter from Percy that gave Merlin the urge to force some sense into the prat. He was glad to see Sirius appear in the fire and talk to Harry about feeling his scar burn during the last detention.

Then things took a downward turn when Sirius suggested meeting the trio in Hogsmeade. Obviously worried for his godfather's safety, Harry had said no. Sirius' response to that rang in Merlin's ears.

"You're less like your father than I thought."

Merlin cursed so foully that it would have made some of the knights he'd once known flush in embarrassment. The things he had seen were already coming to pass. He'd known he had precious little time to act and change things for the better, but events were moving far more quickly than he'd anticipated.

 _I fear that being trapped within that house is doing Sirius harm, and by extension, his relationship with Harry,_ said Kilgharrah sadly.

 _That can't happen,_ Merlin said firmly.  _They need each other. They're the only family each other has. If we don't do something, Sirius will become more reckless and he will die by the end of the year._

There was a moment of absolute silence, before Kilgharrah asked,  _How do you know that, young warlock?_

_I used the crystal._

_You have refused to do so for centuries._

_Really? I didn't know that,_  he thought dryly.  _It was time. I do not know everything, but I know that. If it comes to pass, it will effect Harry greatly._

_What do you plan to do?_

Merlin thought for a moment. The memory of Kreacher using a loophole in Sirius' orders to leave Grimmuald Place surfaced in his mind. He knew from his years watching over everyone that Kreacher...disliked...Sirius because the elf thought that Sirius hated Regulus. This wasn't the case, of course. Sirius merely disproved of his brother's choices since he didn't know the reasons behind them. Kreacher was a major factor in Sirius' misery. Maybe there was something he could do about it.

_Merlin?_

_I think I'll have a talk with Kreacher,_ he said slowly, a plan forming in his mind.

Kilgharrah rolled his eyes.  _I do not think I will even ask._

_I'll be back in the common room soon. I'm just going to stop by the library and find a couple of books. It will give me the excuse that I was trying to "catch up" on a couple of subjects._

_Very well, young warlock, but hurry. It is almost after hours._

Merlin rolled his eyes.  _I'll be fine._

 _Of course you will,_ Kilgarrah said dryly.  _Nothing ever goes wrong._

Knowing that the dragon was thinking about all the times he had managed to find trouble while going about his business (the time he'd been gathering herbs and been attacked by a griffin and saved by Lancelot came to mind), Merlin hurried to the library. Madam Pince leveled a piercing glare at him when he walked through the door.

"What are you doing? It's almost curfew!"

"I know," he said apologetically. "I really need a couple of books to help me with Charms, Runes, and Transfiguration. I'm a bit further behind than we thought I'd be."

She continued to glare at him. "All right. Hurry up. I won't be writing you a pass and it'll be your own fault if Mr. Filch catches you."

Merlin nodded his understand and made a show of hurrying toward the Charms section. Once he was out of sight, he pictured the books he wanted in his mind and muttered, " _Gwysio._ " Four heavy books soared unerringly through the maze of shelves and landed in his arms. Grinning to himself, he returned to Madam Pince.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw him. "That was quick."

"I knew what I was looking for," he shrugged.

Though she continued to eye him like beady-eyed vulture, Madam Pince carefully checked out the books before shooing Merlin out the door with her feather duster and shutting the door behind him with a snap.

"What a lovely woman.  _Screcnan._ "

The books in Merlin's arms shrank in size until they were each the size of his hand. He placed them in his bag, careful not to touch the Crystal of Neahtid. Adopting the harried look of someone who'd lost track of time, he half ran down the corridor.

And nearly plowed into Fred and George Weasley who were scrutinizing Professor Umbridge's office door with the kind of expression that guaranteed havoc would soon be wrought. He slid to a stop, just barely managing to avoid a collision.

"In a hurry, Myrddin?" asked Fred, cocking an eyebrow.

George smirked. "Got somewhere important to be?"

"Not really. I just wanted to get back to the common room before curfew. What are you two doing?" he asked. "You don't have detention, do you?"  _Please say no, please say no. I haven't made any more enchanted bracelets._

"Tonight is not for punishment, but for mischief making," said George with mock seriousness.

Merlin started to smile. "What are you planning?"

The twins shared a look.

"What do you think, Gred. Should we tell him?"

"Do you think he can be trusted, Forge?"

"Perhaps. But can he help us?"

They turned to Merlin expectantly. He grinned.

"While I might be a bit behind in my formal education, I have learned quite a few interesting little spells that might come in handy with your mischief making, if you'll let me help, that is."

Identical evil smirks spread across Fred's and George's faces.

"If we're going to join forces-"

"-you must first prove you are worthy."

"Who do I prank?" he asked.

They pointed at the office door. "Umbridge."

A smirk that would put the Marauders to shame appeared on the warlock's face. "It would be my pleasure."

* * *

The next day, Merlin once more snuck out of the dorm. He stopped in a largely unused secret passage and pulled out his wand. Expanding it once more into a staff, he changed his school robes and cloak into his customary tunic and breeches and a midnight blue cloak that clasped at his shoulder with an intricately wrought triple spiral, the symbol of the Old Religion. His everyday style hadn't changed much since Camelot.

Raising his hood to conceal his face, Merlin loosened ever so slightly his iron grip on his magic, letting it flow out from him in a tangible aura of power until his eyes began to glow golden and he appeared to be every inch the warlock he was.

He tapped his staff firmly on the floor and disappeared from Hogwarts in a gust of wind.

A loud, startled shout greeted him when he arrived in the kitchen at Grimmuald Place. Merlin reflexively dodged the stunning spell sent flying toward him by Sirius and banished the man's wand with a flicker of his eyes.

"Peace," he said quickly, before Sirius could transform into Padfoot and maul him. "I mean you no harm. I am a friend."

Sirius looked skeptical and his gaze kept flickering toward his wand where it lay on the floor, a foot from Merlin. "If you're a friend then how did you get in here. It would take really dark magic to get through the charms on this place."

"Not dark, simply old," said Merlin, smirking slightly.

"What?"

"The Old Religion, the magic of the Druids, is not wholly dead. There are still those who practice it. I am one of those."

Sirius' eyes widened as noticed the glowing staff in Merlin's hand. All of the old families traced their lineage back as far as possible, often back to the druids. There would be records of the druids that had been part of the house of Black as well as highly accurate drawings of the staff that would have been passed through the family, until the ability to use a staff to channel magic had died out. Merlin was hoping that Sirius would connect his Sidhe staff with the simpler, less powerful staffs most warlocks had used during the height of the Old Religion.

"That's an old fairy staff."

 _Well, that was unexpected,_  thought Merlin, nonplussed. He inclined his head slightly to acknowledge that Sirius was right.

"It was, but it became mine when I defeated the Sidhe who wielded it. Do you believe me?"

"For now," Sirius said grudgingly. "What do you want?"

"To help."

"With what? Voldemort?"

"Is there another threat to the wizarding world that you think I might be interested in destroying?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Not really, but Old Magic is supposed to be gone, so who knows. How exactly do you think you can help? And why didn't you do something before?"

"I am bound to the balance of the world," Merlin said sadly. "The Druidic magics have little place in this time and as such can do little to effect most events that come to pass. We who wield Old Magic are meant to work in the shadows. It is rare that we intervene as I am, but I have little other choice. The balance is in grave danger."

Sirius blinked. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"To the outsider, I suppose that it does not," acknowledged Merlin. "Unfortunately, explaining everything would take too long and I doubt you would truly understand the ancient ways. Much has been forgotten. What you must understand is that the situation has become dire enough that it was time for me to step forth or the consequences of this war will be devastating."

The gravity of the situation seemed to finally hit Sirius. "What has that got to do with me?"

"More than you know. Call to Kreacher."

Sirius' eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You have got to be kidding."

"Not really. The elf has a greater role than you realize." Merlin glared sternly at him. "Call him, if you wish to avoid the horrifying chain of events his actions, and your actions as well, will set into motion."

_That might have been a bit melodramatic. I just hope I get the point across._

"Are you accusing me of something?" Sirius demanded.

_Or not._

"It is not that simple. Call the elf and I will explain."

Though looking slightly mutinous, Sirius summoned Kreacher. The elf appeared with a loud crack. He bowed, eyeing Sirius murderously.

"Master called, ungrateful blood traitor that he is."

"Enough!" Merlin commanded before Sirius could retort. "You shall both hear me, or there will be hell to pay. Do I make myself clear?"

Both man and elf nodded. Kreacher looked Merlin up and down appraisingly. Sirius just seemed stunned.

Merlin glared at them from beneath the shadow of his cloak. "Now, then. You have both been at odds for years and that cannot continue. It is effecting the balance of the world. Normally, I would not bother as a disagreement between man and house elf is generally not that significant, but this is different. Your enmity will lead to great danger for the entire wizarding world."

"You have got to be kidding," Sirius grumbled.

"I am not," Merlin hissed, allowing his magic to color his voice, making his words reverberate through the room. "You hate Kreacher because you believe he represents everything that your family stood for and he dislikes you-"

"Because I was different from the rest of my cursed family," cut in Sirius bitterly.

Merlin glared at him. "This is serious, and don't you dare make some ridiculous pun," he growled when Sirius began to speak. "Kreacher has no love for you, but not because you did stand against the beliefs of the head of the family. As the new head of the House of Black, he should believe as you do. He resists because he formed a special bond with Regulus. He holds onto it because he believes that you hated your brother."

The blood drained from Sirius' already pale face. "I never hated Reg. I hated his choices, but never him. He made his decision and I always regretted that I couldn't save him from it. We were on opposite sides of the board the moment I became a Gryffindor. That became even more true when he joined the Death Eaters."

"He did not make that choice freely."

"How the hell can you know that?" demanded Sirius in a deadly voice.

Merlin sighed sadly. "As a keeper of the balance, it is my duty to watch over the world. I have witnessed many things. One of my deepest regrets is that I must not interfere. I watched your brother make the choice to serve Voldemort, not because he wanted to, but because it was the only way to ensure that Voldemort did not destroy himself, your parents, and even you for being members of a House that would not serve him. Regulus was protecting you all."

"He was what?" Sirius choked. "Is that...is that why he died?"

"Yes and no. He discovered something that Voldemort had done, something that Regulus decided he had to stop. I wish I could give you the details, but now is not the time. Know that your brother died a hero, doing all he could to stop Voldemort. And that Kreacher helped him."

Sirius gaped at the house elf, who dissolved into tears.

"Kreacher could not save Master Regulus. Master Regulus told Kreacher to be sure he got the bad amulet away from the cave and destroy it. But Kreacher couldn't do it. Kreacher is a bad, bad elf."

Knowing that Sirius was still desperately trying to process everything he'd heard, Merlin knelt before Kreacher and laid a gently hand on his thin shoulder.

"No magic you possess could have destroyed that locket," he said softly. "There is nothing you could have done. You are not a bad elf. You did well to keep that safe for all these years."

"Master Sirius threw it away," Kreacher sniffed, "so Kreacher saved it."

"You must realize that Sirius is not your enemy, Kreacher. He may not have agreed with his mother and father and his relationship with Regulus may have been strained, but they were ultimately on the same side. Do you understand?" Kreacher nodded. "You did well to save the locket. Continue to keep it safe. One day, that locket will play a very important role and it will be destroyed. But not yet, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?" demanded Sirius.

Straightening, Merlin sighed. "I cannot say. If I were the only person involved, I would. But there is another, one who is not a druid and therefore who, for the moment, has the right to decide when certain information is disclosed. As ironic as it is, I cannot take the liberty to override him until the balance is in greater danger."

 _Which is why I'm going to be sending Dumbledore very annoying messages until he finally listens to me. One would think that he'd actually take the advice of someone who's lived for hundreds of years rather than just twinkle at them and nod,_ he grumbled to himself.

"I'm afraid you'll have to trust me," he finished out loud.

Sirius nodded, though he didn't look entirely happy. "Is that what you came here to tell us? Or was there something else?"

"There was. I saw a glimpse of the future. Because of your treatment of Kreacher, he betrayed you to your cousin, Narcissa."

Kreacher glared at Merlin. "Kreacher would never betray the House of Black."

"You didn't betray the House of Black. You betrayed Sirius."

Shuffling his feet embarrassedly, Kreacher glanced from Merlin, to Sirius, and back to the floor. "Kreacher may not like Master Sirius, but he would not betray Master Sirius. He is now head of Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

"Would you be saying that if I had not come here today?"

He didn't answer.

"It will take the both of you to change the future," Merlin told them. "In the vision I saw, Kreacher's betrayal led to your death, Sirius."

Sirius blanched and Kreacher began to twist his own ears.

"This was not wholly Kreacher's fault. Staying in this house was not good for you, Sirius. You became reckless and desperate to do something. When you learned that Harry had gone to the place where the weapon is kept-"

"Why would he do that?" demanded Sirius.

"I do not know. I only saw that your death would come in the Department of Mysteries. I assume that when you learnt Harry was there you went after hi-"

Sirius interrupted again. "Of course I would! He's my godson."

"That may be, but it was also because you were desperate to do something, regardless of the danger to yourself. You fought with no concern for yourself and it got you killed. That loss was a grievous blow to Harry.

"This house is already effecting you to that end. I foresaw what you said to Harry last night, about not being his father. Would you have said that to him if you were not desperate to get out of this place?"

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius groaned. "I can't believe I said that. Especially after what Molly said about mistaking Harry for James. I just..."

"You don't have to explain it to me," Merlin said gently. "You need to explain it to Harry. You mean more to him than you know. He is completely isolated because no one believes that Voldemort has returned. He needs your support. He needs to know that you love him, that he has someone who will be there for him."

He took a step back and adjusted his grip on his staff. "It is time now that I leave. I have told you what you need to change the future. If you heed my warning and succeed, the casualties of this war may not be as great. Good luck."

Sirius started out of his chair, questions clear on his face, but Merlin tapped his staff on the ground and transported himself back to his little cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Once there, Merlin slumped against the wall. He really hoped Sirius listened to him. Changing the future rested on his shoulders more than Kreacher's. If they could change that one thing, the future might not be so bleak.

But that was up to them now. Merlin would have to worry about it later. He still had things to do and the day was only so many hours long.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded a lot like Gaius, that was telling him that this was a waste of his time and skill as he quickly brewed a potion for his prank on Umbridge. Perhaps it was a bit immature for someone as powerful and as old as he was, but it was probably also the best way to win over certain people and boost school moral at the same time. It had only been a week and almost everyone, even the teachers already hated Umbridge.

While the potion was setting, Merlin walked over to the room where he kept all of the old, rare, and exceptionally powerful magically paraphernalia he'd kept over the years. Lying on a shelf directly opposite the door, was a small scroll tied with a violet ribbon. It had been given to him centuries ago by an old friend, but he'd been hesitant to make use of it. However, if the future he had glimpsed through the Crystal of Neahtid did not begin to change, then he would have to use the spell written on the scroll to call on someone who saw the future far more clearly than he did. Even if he wasn't entirely sure that he trusted that person.

Merlin sighed and slid the scroll into his bag. He collected a few odds and ends that he would need to make more of the healing bracelets and placed them in his bag as well before returning to the kitchen. For the next hour or so, Merlin made and enchanted the bracelets while he waited for the potion to stop bubbling. Once it did, he bottled it, transformed his clothes back into school robes, and transported himself to the same secret passage he had used earlier.

He'd been gone all day again, and the school was mostly asleep. It was a simple matter for him to creep down the kitchen, convince Dobby to slip the potion he'd brewed into Umbridge's drink because she wouldn't believe Harry, and make it back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

It was the creaking of the door that woke him. Harry groped blindly for his glasses, finding them just in time to see Myrddin slip into the dormitory. Harry frowned slightly. Myrddin had been gone all weekend. He claimed that he'd spent Saturday studying so that he wouldn't be so far behind in his classes. Harry wasn't sure if he believed that. Myrddin hadn't been that far behind. It seemed like he was stalling more than failing. He rarely produced the mistakes the rest of them did. Instead, nothing happened until at least half the class had succeeded and then he miraculously got it.

What's more, Hermione had spent quite a while in the library all weekend and had seen neither hide nor hair of Myrddin. Harry wondered what the other boy might have spent the whole weekend doing. He looked exhausted.

Harry watched silently as Myrddin changed into his pajamas. He had a strange, star shaped scar on his chest that Harry hadn't seen before. Myrddin had always been careful to change in private. Harry couldn't help but wonder what else Myrddin was hiding.

He fell asleep, still wondering.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned in a review that they thought I wasn't including Ron and Hermione enough when talking from Harry's POV. I'll try to work on that a bit, because they are extremely important characters where Harry is concerned, but I just want to explain why they haven't had a more active role. There are three reasons I haven't included them more. 1) Everything that happend in OotP happend unless I mentioned that it didn't or tweaked it myself, so all of that trio loveliness is still going on. 2) This has mostly been from merlin's POV and he's more concerned with Harry (at the moment) getting his feet under him, and actively making a difference in the war. He's been keeping his distance from the trio to make sure that they don't become suspicious of him. Starting soon, he'll be spending more time with all of them and Ron and Hermione will have more screen time. 3) So far, Harry's parts have mostly been introspective, from my POV. It's his thoughts concerning Merlin. I hope that helps.

Yawning tiredly, Merlin stumbled across the Great Hall and plopped down at the Gryffindor table. Kilgharrah had kept him up half the night, wanting to know what he'd been up to while he was gone. He hadn't gotten to sleep until the early hours of the morning and that coupled with the lingering effects of using the Crystal of Neahtid to look into the future, meant that he was a little on the exhausted side.

"Late night? asked Harry in a voice that was far too innocent as Merlin helped himself to some eggs. He sounded like Gaius when the old physician had been prodding to get Merlin to admit to what he already knew his ward had been doing.

Merlin shot him a tired smile. "Yeah. I lost track of time while I was studying."

"Studying?" Ron repeated in almost comical horror. "We didn't even have that much homework."

"I'm a bit further behind than I thought I would be. Getting the chance to come here at my age is a privilege that I don't want to lose."

That seemed to be enough explanation for Ron, who shrugged and turned back to his breakfast, but Harry continued to eye Merlin carefully. Merlin did his best to ignore him and focused on his breakfast, all the while thinking that he definitely needed to figure out a way to get Harry to trust him.

All thoughts of that were derailed when the post arrived not a minute later. Merlin had finally broken down and subscribed to the Daily Prophet, if only to keep an eye on things. What he saw on the front page almost made his magic flare out of his control. As it was, a few of the plates and goblet rattled ominously as he read the lengthy article describing how Dolores Umbridge had been made High Inquisitor.

 _This is a load of absolute rubbish,_ Merlin fumed.  _The only parents who think the school is...what was it... "moving in a direction they do not approve" are death eaters who don't want Harry to convince people that Riddle is back. And there are certainly no falling standards. Umbridge is the worst professor since Lockhart! This is nothing more than an excuse to spy on the teachers and further interfere. This is utterly ridiculous._

It was a very good thing that he'd closed off his connection to Kilgharrah so that the dragon could get some rest after tailing Harry, Ron, and Hermione for the weekend. If he knew what Umbridge was up to, Merlin had no doubt that she would find herself under attack.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily to Harry and Hermione. The three of them were bent over Hermione's copy of the Prophet. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

Merlin privately agreed. He was also rather interested to see how she handled Snape.

Oblivious to the commotion among the students, Umbridge walked into the hall and sat at the head table. Merlin caught Fred's eye and smirked. The red head's eyes widened in understanding. He elbowed George and gestured between Merlin and Umbridge. They hurried over to sit opposite Merlin and the trio.

"That was quick," said George.

Fred eyed Merlin contemplatively. "But will it be up to par, I wonder."

"Don't worry. I don't do things halfway."

"What are you three talking about?" asked Hermione warily.

Merlin grinned. "You'll see. Just keep an eye on our favorite professor."

"Snape or Umbridge?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Umbridge."

Hermione harrumphed. "I thought you were more mature than those two." She gestured to the twins as she spoke.

"I am. Most of the time, anyway. I learned a long time ago that there is some merit to playing harmless pranks. It lets you work off your frustration without harming anyone and it makes a point. Think of it as guerilla warfare."

"What's that?"

"It's a form a muggle warfare used primarily against greater forces, Ron," explained Hermione in a long suffering voice.

"Oh."

"Nothing's happening," complained Fred impatiently.

Umbridge reached for her pumpkin juice. "Just give it one more minute," said Merlin.

She took a swallow. Gagging loudly, Umbridge dropped the goblet and spat out the pumpkin juice, staining the table cloth. Professor McGonagall jumped up to avoid the orange liquid spreading toward her while Umbridge grabbed a nearby glass of water and took a long drink.

The damage had already been done.

She gagged and clutched her stomach as the potion Dobby had slipped into her drink at Merlin's request began to take effect. Her skin morphed into the slimy green scales of a toad. Snickers began to break out among the students. They only grew louder when her eyes became yellow and bulbous. She opened her mouth to scream and a croak came out.

"Who did this to me?" she demanded, still croaking.

The hall burst into laughter. Even the Slytherins were cackling. Professor McGonagall had a hand pressed to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth as she fought to keep her expression stern. Professor Flitwick had literally ducked under the table and even Snape seemed amused as Umbridge continued to screech, or croak, rather, in fury.

"Calm down, Dolores," Dumbledore, the only teacher who looked at all calm, said soothingly. "I'm sure Severus can find you an antidote."

Snape did not look particularly inclined to do so. In fact, if the slight lift of his brow was anything to go by, he'd rather let her stay a toad, but he nodded nonetheless. He picked up the goblet gingerly between two fingers and examined it carefully. He pulled something out of his pocket and dipped it in the liquid before examining it closely. Whatever the result was, it caused him to frown slightly. Snape shot Merlin a surreptitious glance. The warlock nodded discreetly. A smirk flitted across the potion master's face before he quickly banished it.

"I am not sure that I can," Snape said smoothly. "I have never seen a potion like this, though you have my word that I will try."

"I want the person responsible for this found immediately!" Umbridge croaked, waving her hands, which were now webbed, about. "I want them suitably punished. How dare they do something like this to a teacher!"

_I didn't do it to a teacher, I did it to a ministry stooge._

McGonagall having finally gotten control of herself, turned to glare at Fred and George.

"It wasn't us!" they shouted indignantly.

"Of course not," she said skeptically. "Unfortunately, I don't believe that. A word in my office, Messers Weasley."

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop her. "I do not think that will be necessary, Minerva. Talented as pranksters though they are, I doubt that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley could brew this potion. It is rather complex."

"They could have bought it!" screeched Umbridge.

"I doubt that, Madam Umbridge. In fact, I doubt we will find the culprit at all."

Dumbledore glanced toward Merlin as he spoke. The warlock stared back unabashedly. If the headmaster wasn't going to do something to stop Umbridge, then he would. It was that simple.

Seeming to realize that Dumbledore knew perfectly well who the culprit was, McGonagall glared at him for a moment before turning to the students and dismissing them briskly.

"That was brilliant!" Ron cheered under the cover of the cacophony created by the students leaving the hall. "How did you do that?"

Merlin smirked. "That would be telling."

"At least tell me that Snape won't be able to find an antidote," Ron pleaded.

"There isn't one, as far as I know. It'll have to wear off on it's own."

"And how long will that be?"

"Couple of days, maybe a week at most."

"Brilliant," Ron grinned, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"That was very irresponsible. Just think what she might do to you if she caught you!"

Merlin arched an eyebrow. "I assume she'd make me write more lines."

"Exactly!"

"We will definitely be combining our efforts to drive that toad right out of the school," Fred said enthusiastically, completely ignoring Hermione, who glared at him in disapproval. _Perhaps I should warn them of what detention with Umbridge entails,_ the warlock mused.

"That is, if a great pranking master like yourself will deign to help us," teased George.

"It would be my pleasure. Three heads are better than one, after all, especially when it comes to set up. Kilgharrah will be so disappointed he missed this. Maybe I should let him help next time."

"Your dragon likes to prank?" asked Harry.

Merlin shrugged. "Not really. But he does have a sense of humor and he's got a thing for making sure people get their just desserts, not to mention the fact that he's taken a particular disliking to Umbridge. In fact, it's a good thing I convinced him not to come to detention with me. I think he might have burnt her to a crisp right then."

"Should have let him," Harry grumbled.

"I'm beginning to think the same," Merlin admitted.

"Do you think we could have the recipe for that potion?" asked George. "It would be a big hit as another prank candy."

"I'm not sure," Merlin said slowly. He'd created the potion himself and there were several ingredients that had fallen out of use years ago. It even required a healthy does of Old Magic to work properly. "It's a bit difficult to explain and some of the ingredients are hard to come by. I'll see if I can tweak it so that you can use it and so that it wears off more quickly."

"Wicked," the twins coursed. "See you later."

"Come on," said Hermione, giving Merlin a disapproving look, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late."

* * *

The day was an absolute disaster. History of Magic was once more dead dull, Potions wasn't too horrible, but neither was it pleasant, and Umbridge had shone up to audit Trelawney. Merlin had actually felt sorry for the old fraud by the end of the lesson. Umbridge had asked her to make a prediction on the spot. Not even Morgana, one of the most powerful seers ever born, could have done that. Of course Trelawney had tried. She'd then proceeded to predict Harry's death again and had tried to convince Merlin that he was never going to amount to anything. He'd felt a bit less sympathy for her after that.

The only bright spot had been that Umbridge still looked like a toad.

Defense had been particularly horrible. Before they had entered the classroom, Merlin had pulled Harry aside.

"You know full well she's going to attempt to rile you up, just as she did last week," he'd hissed. "For the love of Avalon, don't give her the satisfaction. Keep your mouth shut. Just ignore anything she says."

Harry had nodded slowly and Merlin had foolishly believed that he'd would behave himself. He hadn't.

The class had started off much the same as the one previous week had. Hermione refused to read the book and challenged Umbridge when she noticed. It had been going rather well, Hermione had been unfailingly polite and logical, until Umbridge took points from Gryffindor and complimented Quirrell for being the only teacher to stick to Ministry approved lessons. Harry hadn't been able to stop himself and had earned another week's worth of detentions for reminding everyone that Quirrell had had Voldemort sticking out of his head.

 _Sometimes I wonder if I'm speaking in the Old Tongue and simply not noticing for all the good it does me,_ Merlin grumbled when they left class. He marched up to Harry, grabbed the back of his robes, and dragged him into an empty classroom. Ron and Hermione scurried after them. Without bothering to hide the way his eyes flashed, he slammed the door shut and warded it so strongly that no one was going to be able to get in.

"Are you bloody stupid?" he demanded, rounding on Harry. "You're playing right into her hands!"

Harry glared at him. "What do you expect me to do? Am I supposed to just sit there while she insults Cedric and tries to tell us that the man with Voldemort attached to his soul is a better teacher than Lupin?"

"Yes!"

"You're mad," Harry spat. He strode past Merlin and tried to wrench open the door. It didn't budge.

"Let me out."

Merlin crossed his arms. "Not until you listen."

Growling under his breath, Harry pulled out his wand. Merlin watched him try everything from  _alohomora_ to  _bombarda_ in grim amusement. After a moment, Hermione joined in as well. Merlin suspected that she was little bit curious about what spell he had used and that she didn't want Harry to start cursing people, mainly Merlin.

"How did you manage to cast a spell so powerful without a wand or an incantation?" she asked.

He regarded her calmly for a moment. "I'm a Druid. The kind of magic I most naturally use doesn't require a wand and I generally use non-verbals."

Ron snorted. "That's impossible. Every one knows the Druids died out."

"We didn't," said Merlin crossly. "There are only a few of us left. Most of the people who call themselves Druids don't even use the Old Magics. They practice some of the rituals, though they rarely get them right, and live in the forest. I am one of the few true Druids left. I can trace my ancestry all the way back to Camelot. The spells I use have been handed down through my family since the time of Merlin."

He fought madly not to laugh at the half-truths he was telling. When you knew all the facts, it was rather funny.

"If that's true then what are you doing at Hogwarts? Surely you don't need an education here," asked Hermione shrewdly.

Merlin chuckled. "You'd be surprised. There are many spells that you learn here that a Druid never would, but you'd be right in saying that that I really don't need the education. The Ministry has refused to acknowledge that there are still some Druids left for centuries. When I approached Dumbledore about wanting to help fight Voldemort, we had to come up with a plausible excuse for why the Ministry had no record of me. Thus the childhood illness and parents who travelled the world were created to explain my lack of documented history."

"Why lie to the Order?"

Hermione really was clever, Merlin had to give her that. She was asking all the right questions. "That was Dumbledore's decision. He thought it best that as few people as possible knew who I really was."

"If you're going to lie to the Order, then why tell us the truth?" demanded Harry.

"Because I'm supposed to be helping you lot," Merlin cried in exasperation. "Voldemort is after you and the Ministry is trying to discredit you. I thought you might like another person on your side, but you don't trust me."

"Your story never added up," Harry muttered. "You kept doing things you shouldn't be able to do. I saw you heal your hand after that first detention."

Merlin glowered at him. "There was nothing wrong with my story. Everyone else believed it. You just happen to have an over developed ability to sense whether people are being truthful. It's very annoyi-" He stopped short. "I didn't heal my hand after detention."

Matching Merlin's glare, Harry said, "Yes you did. While we were walking back to the common room, you ran your left hand over the back of your right hand like you trying to sooth the irritation. It glowed and the irritation was gone."

"I didn't do that on purpose," Merlin muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He'd thought he was managing to balance keeping a tight grip on his magic and leaving it open enough to allow him to sense the wards and any possible threats to the school. If he was healing himself unconsciously, then he wasn't being as successful as he'd thought.

"Just how powerful are you?" asked Ron. "'Cause my dad said that some of the oldest spells were from Druids, that even you lot needed them."

"We do, but a lot of our magic is instinctual as well," Merlin said, hoping that would be enough to put the matter to rest.

Harry scowled suddenly. "Are you actually here to learn or is it to keep tabs on me?"

It took every ounce of self control Merlin had learned over the centuries not to wince. He'd seen enough over the past months to know how much Harry hated being coddled and watched. He would have to chose his words carefully.

"Looking out for you was my idea and it wasn't my intention until I realized what the Ministry was doing. I know what it's like to feel like everyone hates you, like you're under attack. I really am here to learn, I just thought I might try to help out while I'm at it."

"You have no idea what it's like to have to listen to people like Umbridge tell you that you're a liar just because the Ministry doesn't want to admit that Voldemort is back," Harry spat bitterly.

"No, I don't know what it's like to be in that particular situation," Merlin said softly. "I was born in a place where magic was banned on pain of death. Anyone caught using it, anyone even suspected of having magic, was executed without hesitation. I spent years listening to my best friend tell me why magic was evil even as I used it secret to save his life. I watched innocents die. My entire childhood was spent hearing that I was a monster. No one knew that I had magic, but I heard enough people express their negative opinions of those with magic that the point got across. Two and a half decades I spent keeping my mouth shut because it kept me alive so that I could help others. So no, I don't know exactly what you're going through. But I know enough to be able to say that if you think mouthing off to Umbridge is going to help, then you are an idiot of phenomenal proportions."

The golden trio gaped at him. The raw pain and sorrow he still felt when he thought about those early years in Camelot had laced every word. Blinking away tears, Hermione crossed the room and pulled Merlin into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He returned the embrace for a moment. "Thank you."

Ron looked shaken. "I thought places like that were gone."

"It was a long time ago," Merlin sighed. "Eventually, things changed, and magic was welcomed. I don't mean to boast, but a lot of that had to do with the fact that I kept my peace and was able to remain friends with a very important man. I was able to discreetly teach him things that the rabble rousers couldn't."

He looked Harry in the eye. "I'm not saying that you should lay down and let Umbridge and the Ministry say whatever they want. You do have to fight back, but you have to pick your battles. Do you have any idea how much satisfaction you're giving her by shouting in class? I've said it before and I will say it again, you are playing into her hands and making yourself look like a volatile teenager who's just acting up."

"So what do I do then? If I don't stand up for myself, if I don't tell the truth, then what do I do?"

"I never said you don't tell the truth. Just don't engage in shouting matches in Defense class."

"He's got a point," said Hermione thoughtfully. "If you become the model student, then Umbridge won't have any reason to single you out. That leaves you free to do all sorts of things in the evenings and outside of class."

Merlin nodded. "Exactly. Do you remember what I said this morning about guerilla warfare? We're a small and comparatively powerless group fighting much more influential individuals. You don't win that kind of a fight by charging in headfirst."

"You know, Hermione and I were talking about this a bit the other day," Ron said slowly. "What if we started a study group sort of thing. We're not learning anything in Defense and I bet plenty of people would want to come, in only to pass their exams."

Hermione beamed. "That's brilliant. You could teach us, Myrddin."

"No, no I can't," he said quickly.

"But you know more than any of us," she protested.

"About Druidic magic, not about your normal, everyday magic," he lied. He could teach the seventh years without any problems, but they weren't supposed to know that. "I could maybe teach a couple of lessons on Druidic magic, but I couldn't teach everything."

"Then who?" asked Ron.

Hermione immediately rounded on Harry. His eyes widened and he backed away from her.

"Are you mad? I can't teach! If anyone is qualified, it's you. You're the best in our year!"

"Not in Defense," Hermione said calmly. "Every time you've actually sat the test, you've beaten me and think about all the things you've done!"

"I haven't done anything-" he began hotly.

"Let's see," interrupted Ron, screwing up his face in an imitation of Goyle thinking. "First year you got past all the enchantments and saved the sorcerer's stone from You-Know-Who -"

"I'd have never made it without you two-

"Second year you killed the basilisk and saved Ginny-"

"Only because of Fawkes-"

Ron continued, getting steadily louder as he did. "Third year, you saved Sirius from the dementors-"

"That never would have happened without the time turner-"

"Last year," Ron said, louder still, "you fought You-Know-Who-"

"WOULD YOU LISTEN!" Harry shouted.

Ron and Hermione looked at him in shock.

"You have no idea," he said, shaking slightly. "It sounds great when you say it like that, but it was all just luck. Half the time, I didn't know what I was doing. I was making it up as I went and I almost always had help. I'm not brilliant at Defense or anything like that. It's not about memorizing spells. I'm not cleverer than Cedric and he died. You have no idea what it's like to face him."

"We know Harry," Hermione said. "We really do. That's why you need to be the one to teach us. We need to know what it's like to face V-V-Voldemort."

Harry's anger faded into stunned shock. That was the first time Hermione had ever said Voldemort's name and it made him realize just how serious she was being.

Merlin walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Of the students in this school, you and I are the only ones who truly know what it means to be in battle, to fight for our lives, and you are the only one to have faced Voldemort. You are the only one who can teach all of us what it's like to fight him. Just think about it. They have a right to know."

He nodded mutely. Relief washed through Merlin.

"Now that all of this is out of the way, I think we should be going before anyone notices that we are missing." He waved his hand and the door swung open. Hermione gasped slightly, actually noticing this time that his eyes had glowed.

 _That's one problem sorted,_ Merlin sighed.  _Only a million more to go._


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In one of the reviews, someone pointed out that a couple of chapters ago, when Merlin confronts Sirius in chapter 7, Sirius says "Oh, Merlin." Just to make it clear, he's saying that the same way we muggles would say "Oh, damn," or "Oh, crap." It's just a saying. He has no idea that Merlin is standing in front of him. At this point, Dumbledore and Snape are the only HP characters who know who Myrddin is. Sorry for the confusion.
> 
> Also, in answer to everyone who pointed this out, yes I had Merlin slip on his age on purpose as you will see in this chapter. The way I see it, he's never been the best at lying and he's out of practice as it is. Besides, I have to keep the trio curious, don't I?

That evening, after his detention, Harry sat in the common room, staring at the fire. Umbridge had kept him obscenely late again and he was the only one still awake. He fiddled with the leather band around his wrist. To anyone who didn't know better, it looked as though his hand was red and raw. Glancing around to be sure that he really was alone, Harry slipped the band off his wrist. The irritation faded. He had to look closely to see the redness that still lingered. The scars, however, were clear to see.

He slipped the band back onto his wrist thinking that he never had thanked Myrddin for it. Harry didn't even want to think about what condition his hand would be in without the bracelet to help heal the wounds.

Though their discussion earlier that day had helped allay some of his suspicions, Harry was still a bit wary about Myrddin. He still got the feeling that there was something Myrddin was hiding.

Suddenly feeling far more awake than he had just moments before, Harry rummaged in his bag for his History of Magic book. He flipped through the pages until he came to a section on druids.

_Ardent worshippers of nature, the Druids were a peaceful people amongst the first to practice magic. They were known for their dedication to the healing arts and their unwillingness to enter into violence, even when their own lives were at stake. The Druids pioneered many of the magical advances that would eventually lead to modern spellwork._

_Very little is known about the Druids. During the reign of Uther Pendragon, father to the legendary King Arthur, they were all but wiped out. Those that survived Uther's Purge faded into the forests. Only one Druid would step forth to make a name for himself: Mordred. Twisted by hate for the king that took so much from him, he is hardly an example of what the Druidic beliefs truly were. However, some tenants of the Druid magic lived on through Merlin, who, though not a Druid himself, studied under them. Soon after the battle of Camlann and the fall of King Arthur, the Druids would disappear completely._

_The Druids practiced the Old Religion, which focuses on the balance between opposite forces, primarily that of life and death. They were experts in the healing arts and could harness the magical properties of most plants. They kept themselves apart from other practitioners of the Old Religion, preferring to live in harmony with nature, which they saw as the source of their power. Little is known of the means by which they cast their magic. Their incantations were in an ancient dialect of Old English which, being antiquated even in the days of Camelot, died out soon after Merlin's disappearance after the death of Queen Guinevere. One source, an ancient text which has been attributed to Merlin, states that only the most powerful of the Druids could harness magic for complex spells without incantations, but all Druids could perform limited magic without incantations. It has been postulated by some that this means they employed wordless magic while others believe that the spells were instinctual and did not require an incantation of any kind._

Sighing, Harry closed the book and set it aside. That really hadn't told him anything. There was a slight possibility that Myrddin was more powerful than he was letting on, but it was equally possible that it had just been instinctual magic that had healed his hand. That was what Myrddin had implied.

And then there was that slip Myrddin had made when he was talking about his past. At least, Harry thought it was a slip. He'd said that he'd lived in a place where magic was banned for two and a half decades and that that had been a long time ago. Myddin didn't look any older than nineteen or twenty, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. Harry knew that wizards lived longer than muggles. That had cropped up at some point while Hermione was rattling on about something. He supposed it was possible that Myrddin was older than he looked. It was something Harry really wanted to discuss with Ron and Hermione, he just hadn't been able to find time to talk to them privately.

It was just all so confusing. Myrddin hadn't done anything to give Harry reason not to trust him. He'd been nothing if not helpful and friendly, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on. After dealing with the likes of Quirrell and Barty Crouch Jr., that was something that bothered Harry.

He tossed his History of Magic book back into his bag and went upstairs to his dorm, his feet dragging on the stairs. It didn't escape his notice, asleep on his feet though he was, that Myrddin's bed was empty.

* * *

Sighing tiredly, Remus apparated onto the front porch of Grimmuald Place. He was exhausted. Every moment he was amongst other werewolves who were quite possibly working for Voldemort or at the very least anti-ministry-and-anyone-else-who-might-support-them he had to be alert and completely in control of his actions or it could cost him his life. Few of the other werewolves were as civilized, for lack of a better word, as he was and fights often broke out as well. Despite his best efforts, he'd gotten caught in a couple of them. As a result, he was not only mentally exhausted from having to remain completely on his guard but physically exhausted and rather sore from being forced to defend himself.

He fumbled in his pocket for the key Sirius had given him. With the summer over, Grimmuald Place had been rather empty. The kids were off at school as were the teachers who were members of the Order. The Weasleys had taken to spending several days at home every week so that their absence wouldn't be as noticeable. Arthur had been getting some awkward questions at work. With Fudge becoming more and more suspicious of Dumbledore any Member of the Order working in the Ministry was having to tread more carefully than ever. The result was a very empty headquarters and a very lonely Sirius.

As Sirius tended to spend hours holed up in his mother's room with Buckbeak, he had given Remus a key so that the werewolf wouldn't have to ring the bell and wake Mrs. Black's portrait. Remus was trying to spend as much time at Grimmuald as he could. He knew that being in that place wasn't good for his friend, especially without someone to distract him. The last thing Remus wanted was to lose Sirius after finally getting him back.

Finally finding the key buried in the corner of his pocket, Remus pulled it out and let himself into the house. He closed the door behind him and locked it once more. Stuffing the key back into his pocket, Remus looked up for the first time. His mouth fell open in surprise.

The first thing he noticed was that everything was clean. The layer of grime and dust that had stubbornly remained clinging to every surface despite Molly Weasley's best efforts was gone. The shabby wall paper had either been replaced or magically restored and transformed as it was no longer pealing off the walls or green. It was now a dark, rich blue. The black wood floor was now a warm mahogany. The most noticeable difference was the absence of the moldy curtains that had hidden Mrs. Black's portrait and the portrait itself, which had been replaced with a painting of a phoenix surrounded in flames.

Mouth still hanging open slightly, Remus gazed down the hall. The severed elf heads were gone as were all the other portraits. The cobwebs that had clung to the corners of the ceiling were gone. The silver chandelier that hung from the ceiling was now bronze and instead of serpents curling their tails around the candles, they were vines. All of the silver in the hall had been turned to bronze. The handle on the kitchen door, which had once been a coiled snake, was now just a simple door knob.

"Either I've somehow managed to enter a parallel reality where the Blacks weren't evil gits, or something happened that I've yet to be informed of," he muttered to himself.

Remus was still staring around the hall, having not mustered the courage to explore further, when Sirius tramped down the stairs. It seemed the one time prisoner had undergone as much of a transformation over the house.

It had been little over two weeks since Remus had last seen Sirius. His old friend had been unshaven, surly, and hungover. No matter what he was doing, Sirius had always been a bit curled into himself, as though he was perpetually cold. He'd been reticent as well, really only speaking up without direct provocation when he was in an Order meeting.

Now, he looked about ten years younger. He was holding himself straight, his shoulders back rather than hunched forward. His hair was combed and looked like it had been freshly cut. The robes Sirius was wearing were clean and even seemed to have been pressed. He was clean shaven and Remus could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't hungover. The deadened look was gone from his eyes and a spark of mischief and good humor had returned. A wide, genuine smile spread across Sirius' face when he saw Remus standing just inside the door.

"Moony! What are you doing here?" he asked, hurrying down the stairs. "I didn't think you'd be back for a couple more days."

Remus eyed his old friend as though wondering whether he was actually a polyjuiced impersonator. "I wasn't supposed to be, but Greyback came to the pack I was with. He knows what I've been doing for Dumbledore and he warned the others. They were getting suspicious."

"How suspicious?" Sirius was looking Remus up and down carefully, taking note of the many cuts and bruises he was sporting.

"Very," he replied dryly. "Hence why I left. What exactly happened here? If I hadn't used my key, I might've thought I apparated to the wrong house."

A wry grin tugged Sirius' lips even though the worry for his friend didn't leave his eyes. "Ironically enough, this is all Kreacher's doing. He and I managed to reach a bit of an understanding and this is the result."

Once more, Remus found himself gaping. "Could you repeat that, I seem to have misheard you."

"You didn't," Sirius assured him. "It's a bit of a long story. Let's get you patched up and I'll tell you all about it."

Careful of any hidden injuries, Sirius laid a hand on Remus' shoulder and led the other man into the now gleaming kitchen. If Molly could see it now, she'd probably have a fit. She'd spent countless hours making absolutely no progress in getting it truly clean.

"I didn't think it was possible for this place to be so bright," Remus comment dryly as Sirius directed him into a seat.

The animagus chuckled. "You weren't the only one. It's like a completely different house." He rummaged through the cupboards for the first aid supplies they kept there. "It's not so bad staying here now."

"Really?" Remus asked in surprise.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I'm not bombarded with painful memories every time I enter a room because all the reminders are gone. Even being around Kreacher isn't all that bad any more. Turns out, we have more in common than I thought."

"Who are you and what in Merlin's name have you done to Sirius Black?"

Sirius didn't answer immediately. He'd found the cupboard with the medical potions in it and was busy sorting through them, looking for a bruise salve and a disinfectant he could use on Remus' cuts before one of them used a healing spell. He gathered the necessary jars into his arms and carried them to the table.

"I got a visitor a week ago," he said. "This man I'd never seen before just appeared in this very room in a gust of wind."

Remus leapt out of his chair. "What! Why is this the first I'm hearing about this?"

"Would you sit down before you hurt yourself?" Sirius said, glaring at Remus.

The werewolf narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You didn't tell anyone did you?" Sirius' silence was enough of answer. "What were you thinking? You weren't, were you? Did it never cross your mind that we might need to know if Order headquarters had been compromised?" Remus suddenly stiffened and drew his wand, pointing it at Sirius. "Transform," he ordered.

Sirius rolled his eyes, looking distinctly annoyed. "Is this really necessary?"

"Considering you just told me that Headquarters had been compromised and you didn't say anything to Dumbledore, yes I think it's necessary."

"If I was a Death Eater using polyjuice, do you really think I'd tell you that someone managed to break into this place? Really, Moony, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"

"Just transform into Padfoot."

Glaring at his friend, Sirius rose from his chair and transformed. Remus barely had time to feel relieved when he found himself shoved unceremoniously into his chair by an enormous shaggy black dog.

"Was that really necessary?" he demanded, massaging his ribs where the impact from the dog's paws had jared a particularly sore bruise.

Padfoot shifted back into Sirius, who was still glaring. "Was it really necessary for you to think I'd followed in the footsteps of my psychotic cousin? I thought you knew me better than that, Remus."

"What exactly were you expecting? I come back here after two weeks with a pack of werewolves to discover that Grimmuald Place has miraculously gotten the face lift we've been attempting to force on it all summer, you look like someone's cast an immensely powerful cheering charm on you, your even saying nice things about Kreacher! Then you tell me that someone who isn't a member of the Order found a way into headquarters and you expect me not to jump to some kind of conclusion? I want answers, Padfoot!"

"I was trying to give them to you before your bloody panic attack," Sirius grumbled. He grabbed the jar of bruise salve off the table. "Take your shirt off," he instructed, unscrewing the cap and scooping a generous portion of the purplish-gel onto his fingers. "I'll explain as I work."

Remus obliged. He hissed slightly when raising his arms over his head pulled at his bruises. Upon seeing just how badly beaten up Remus was, Sirius swore slightly under his breath and rose to retrieve another jar of bruise salve from the cupboard. Returning to the table, he gently prodded Remus until he was sitting facing the table, his arms resting on the wooden surface, his back displayed. As he gently massaged the purple gel into the many bruises that littered Remus' back, he recounted the details of the event that had taken place a week ago.

He'd finished applying the salve to Remus' back and moved on to his ribs by the time he'd finished.

"Let me get this straight," Remus said slowly. "A stranger appears in your kitchen, after passing through some of the strongest magical protections possible, claiming to be a Druid and you just believed everything he told you? Did Azkaban actually turn you mad? OUCH!"

Sirius had applied the salve with a bit more force than necessary after the question about his sanity. "Sorry," he said unapologetically. "You know what my parents were like. I was forced to study wizarding genealogy as a child before starting Hogwarts. They both took pride in the fact that the Black family could be traced back to the Druids. We have my many-times-great-grandfather's staff in the vault somewhere. As part of my studies, I had to learn about how the staffs were made and how they were eventually replaced by wands. I could tell that the staff this person had was genuine. Druidic magic is different from what we use. Once I realized that he really was a Druid, I realized that it wouldn't have been difficult for him to get through the wards. Turn around so I can do your chest."

Obliging, Remus ran a hand over his face. "It's all a bit far fetched, Pads, but I believe you."

"I was there and I hardly believe it," Sirius admitted. "If it wasn't for the fact that Kreacher and I have managed to come to some sort of an understanding, I probably wouldn't have thought I'd had too much firewhisky."

"Do you have any idea how strange it is to hear you mention Kreacher without some kind of threat or insult involved?" asked Remus mildly.

"Exactly as weird as it is to realize that I don't consider killing him every time I see him," suggested Sirius. "I still can't believe that my brother defied Voldemort. Kreacher won't tell me. Apparently that Druid asked him not too and that outweighs a master's order."

"Well, at least the house is finally clean. I can't believe that all it took for Kreacher to start working was for you to admit that you didn't hate Regulus."

Sirius frowned slightly. "A clean house isn't the only good thing that came out of this. Apparently, if I hadn't done something about my relationship with Kreacher, he was going to betray us to Narcissa."

"But he shouldn't be able to do that."

"She's still a Black. I did a bit of research after the Druid left-"

"You mean you actually entered the library?" Remus asked in mock astonishment.

"Amazing, I know. I found something pretty interesting. A house elf is bound to serve a particular family until death or dismissal, but what I never realized is that they're not specifically bonded to the head of the family, which is what most people think. They're bonded to the bloodline. That leaves them open to forming a particular bond with a particular member of the family. Kreacher did that with Regulus. If he thought that I was dishonoring Regulus, he would have been perfectly capable of going to Narcissa to do something about it."

Remus leaned back gingerly. "Wizards do tend to underestimate those we consider to be below us. It's a good things this Druid warned us. That could have been disastrous."

"The Druid said I ended up dead because of it."

If Remus hadn't known Sirius so well, he wouldn't have noticed the pain and fear in his old friend's voice when he said that. He knew that Sirius didn't fear death so much as he feared letting everyone down again, especially Harry.

"You dodged a bullet, as the muggles would say, Padfoot," Remus sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful in the future."

"I will be," Sirius promised. "I think that's the last of the bruises. Just how many fights did you get into? I think you had more bruises than skin. A couple of the bruises were bruised."

"Very witty, Pads. I told you, Greyback's been warning them about me. Most werewolves are incredibly paranoid by nature. They put Mad-eye to shame, and for good reason. I've been lucky. Finding out that there is a spy amongst them, no matter what my intentions are, puts them on edge to say the least."

"Dumbledore shouldn't be sending you on these missions, then."

Remus sighed and rolled his eyes. This was an old argument. "We don't want Voldemort gaining their support. It's bad enough he as Greyback on his side. Who else is going to even stand a chance of getting close to the werewolves other than a werewolf?"

"Everyone knows that you follow Dumbledore," Sirius said exasperatedly. He wet a rag he'd conjured with the disinfectant and gently began dabbing at the edges of the cuts that littered Remus' arms. He winced as the potion stung. Too busy still rambling, Sirius didn't notice. "We can't promise them anything because of the bloody ministry, so you're not exactly making progress, are you?"

He didn't want to admit it, but Remus knew Sirius was right. He actually agreed that it would probably better if he stopped attempting to convince the others not to join Voldemort when he couldn't give them any reason not to, but Dumbledore was insistent. He chose not to mention that, however, as Sirius' opinion of the headmaster was at an all time low.

"Did this Druid mention anything else?" he asked.

For a long moment Sirius didn't answer. He banished the rag he'd been using and carefully recapped the bottle of potion before sending it back to the cupboard with a wave of his wand. Remus pulled his shirt back on while he waited for Sirius to answer.

"I did something stupid, Moony, and I probably wouldn't have realized it if the Druid hadn't mentioned it. I have no excuse except that this house, before Kreacher redecorated, really messed with my head."

Remus looked at him in concern. "What happened?"

"I firecalled Harry. He sent me a letter and I wanted to talk to him because he sounded worried. I suggested that I meet him in Hogsmeade as Padfoot, but he said no-"

"And a good thing he did. You really are mad if you think that's a good idea. The Death Eaters are bound to know about your form by now."

"I know!" Sirius snapped. "But I was desperate! This house was driving me mad. I didn't realize just how much effect it was having until the past few days. I was frustrated with myself for even suggesting it and for putting Harry in the position of having to be the responsible one and I said something really stupid. It'll be a bloody miracle if Harry forgives me."

Halfway through his monologue, Sirius had risen and strode across the room to the counter. He'd planted his hands on the sparkling surface, refusing to look at Remus as his voice become more bitter and miserable. Remus walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me, Padfoot."

Sirius bowed his head and shuddered slightly. "I told him that he was less like James than I thought. I didn't even realize that I said it until the Druid pointed it out. I don't know what the bloody hell I was thinking."

"You probably weren't, Sirius," Remus sighed. "And I'd like to berate you for it, but I don't think I can blame you, not when I know what this house used to do to you."

"Don't worry. I think I'm blaming myself enough for both of us," Sirius muttered bitterly.

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've been thinking about it all week. I suppose I've been waiting to get my head on straight again. I can't let myself say something like that again."

"Tell that to Harry."

Finally, Sirius twisted around to face Remus. "What?"

"Tell that to Harry," Remus restated. "He cares about you, Pads. I daresay he looks to you as I kind of parent. He's also an exceptionally mature young man, something you've yourself pointed out quite vocally in every meeting we've had since June. Do you know what he hears when the dementors get close?"

Sirius arched an eyebrow slightly at the seemingly random tangent. "I would assume the events in the graveyard."

"Yes, but before that he heard Lily and James' final moments." What little color Sirius' skin held drained away, but Remus continued on. "It made him pass out his third year. That was how we officially met for the first time. If anyone can understand what Azkaban did to you and what this house was doing to you, it's Harry. He has his own Grimmuald Place at Privet Drive. If you talk to him, I think he'll understand and he'll forgive you."

"What if he doesn't?" Sirius whispered brokenly.

"Do you really think he won't?" asked Remus with a chuckle. "That boy is far too much like Lily to actually hold a grudge unless it's warranted. Explain your side of the story. The most that'll happen is he'll be irritated that you didn't tell him sooner."

Sirius let out a weak chuckle and leaned back against the counter. "You're right. I just can't help but worry. Knowing that Harry was out there was somewhere was one of the few things that kept me sane all those years. I can't lose him."

"I know. It was the same for me, if for different reasons. Moony would have torn me apart if it hadn't been for the pack's cub."

A fond, reminiscing smile cross the animagus' face. "I forgot that you used to call him that."

Remus looked surprised. "Really?"

Eyes darkening slightly, Sirius nodded. "I remember almost everything, but a lot of the details are missing. They're coming back slowly now that I'm out, but a lot of it is still hazy."

"Why didn't you say something?" demanded Remus, a bit stricken now that realized just how oblivious he'd been to his friend's distress.

"I didn't want to be a bother," Sirius admitted sheepishly. "And before you say it, I'm well aware that was a stupid thing to think and that I should have told you. I was wallowing in self pity and not at my most sane."

"That's not an excuse. You've always been insane, Padfoot."

Sirius glowered at him. "How am I supposed to get in touch with Harry? I'm a bit worried that Umbridge will be watching his owl and the fires. I don't want to get Harry in trouble with that bint."

Knowing exactly how vindictive Umbridge could be having born the brunt of the effect of many of her anti-werewolf laws, Remus nodded, frowning in thought. "I'll go talk to Dumbledore tomorrow. I might be able to convince him to let you use Fawkes to get into the school so that you can talk to Harry."

Sirius grinned and clapped Remus on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime," Remus said, retuning the gesture and stifling a yawn. Sirius immediately became apologetic.

"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to keep you up after all that. You can use the same room as before. The whole place has been cleaned up so it's not nearly as disturbing as before, which isn't saying much considering it couldn't get any creepier."

Remus shook his head. It certainly was nice to see Sirius acting more like himself again. He'd been beginning to think that he was never going to come out of that depression. Barely able to keep his eyes open anymore, Remus allowed himself to be steered upstairs to the room he'd been using since the beginning of summer. It was indeed far brighter and cleaner than it had been before, but Remus hardly noticed. He bade Sirius good night and fell into bed fully clothed. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Merlin pulled the hood of his cloak down further over his face as he crept through the halls of Hogwarts. After sitting through Umbridge's lectures and her mistreatment of Harry, he'd decided to risk taking a more active roll. Now that the trio knew he was a Druid he had a bit more leeway.

Darting from shadow to shadow, he made his was to Umbridge's classroom. He'd thought about leaving it in her office, but this was a message he wanted everyone to know. A flick of his fingers unlocked the door. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn't bothered to ward it, even after his prank. Perhaps it was time he and the Weasley twins put their heads together to come up with something.

He tried not to smirk and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Standing in the middle of the classroom, he raised his hand and began to chant under his breath.

" _Ic ágræfe onuppan muras, mynegung, wiðer biter áglæcwif."_

Glowing words etched themselves onto the wall. Merlin smirked in grim satisfaction and slipped out of the room.

It was nearly one o'clock by the time he was back in the dorm. He'd had to wait rather late before his little excursion to be sure that no teachers would be in that area of the castle while he cast his spell. He was almost dead on his feet. Before he went to sleep, however, he pulled a small picture frame out of his bedside table. It currently showed only a blank section of grass. It was the twin to the painting that Sir Cadogan currently occupied. Now that he was paying attention, Merlin could sense the spells that had been cast on the painting across the castle.

He waved a hand over the painting. The edges glowed.

Shoving the painting back into the drawer, he lay down tiredly. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.


	11. Chapter 10

"MERLIN! YOU BLOODY USELESS WARLOCK! I KNOW YOU'RE UP THERE! DON'T THINK YOU CAN HIDE FROM ME! I KNOW YOU'RE THE ONE BEHIND THIS! SET IT RIGHT THIS INSTANT! OR I PROMISE YOU WILL REGRET IT IF IT'S THE LAST BLOODY THING I DO!"

Hidden behind the curtains of his four-poster, Merlin was lying on his back, hands clutching the sheets, trying desperately not to burst out laughing. It seemed that sending a message to Arthur through the paintings to let the king know that he was in the castle posing as a student had been a wonderful idea. This was going to be amusing.

His silent mirth was cut off when a weight landed squarely on his chest. Merlin swallowed his laughter and looked down at the dragon crouched on top of him.

"What did you do, young warlock?"

"Nothing," Merlin said innocently. "I just removed the memory charm from Arthur's painting and sent him a message letting him know I was here."

"Then why, pray tell, is he currently frightening the Fat Lady out of her wits by invading her painting to shout at you?" asked Kilgharrah.

Merlin smirked. "I may have forgotten to remove the bloating charm."

The little dragon's eyes widened in understanding. "Then Arthur is still Sir Cadogan to those that see him."

"Indeed."

"You realize he will give you away."

"No he won't," Merlin scoffed. "He's a crazy portrait that most people try to avoid. He could shout to the Minister himself that I am the real Merlin Emrys and no one would take him seriously. He's only going to discredit himself further by insisting to everyone he meets that he's King Arthur when, as far they're concerned, he's a mad old knight from a portrait near the North Tower."

Kilgharrah didn't seem entirely convinced. "I hope for your sake that you are right, Merlin. In any case, you need to get down there and shut him up. He's drawing a crowd and frightening the young ones."

"Well to do that, you'll have to get off of me."

Pushing off with unnecessary force, Kilgharrah leapt into the air and soared back up into the rafters. Merlin rose and quickly pulled on school robes. Adopting a surprised and confused expression, he slung his bag over his shoulder and clattered down the stairs.

The entire dormitory was gathered around the portrait hole. Arthur's shouts, which had echoed through the entire Tower, had diminished to a string of low threats, mostly to Merlin's manhood. The warlock in question pushed through the crowd until he found Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were standing beside Ginny and Neville.

"What is going on?" he asked.

Harry looked skeptical. "You mean you didn't hear the shouting?"

"Of course I did! It woke me up! Why is everyone just standing here?"

"They're afraid to go through the portrait," said Ron, looking amused. "Nick came through about ten minutes ago. Apparently, Sir Cadogan has gone mad."

Ginny snorted. "I thought he was already mad."

"Then he's gone madder," Ron replied irritably.

"They're being ridiculous," burst our Hermione. "We're going to be late to class!"

"We're going to be late to breakfast!" moaned Ron.

They immediately started bickering. Harry gave a long-suffering groan and gazed almost despairingly at his two friends. Merlin sympathized. It was obviously their way of flirting - or ignoring the fact that they were flirting - but it got annoying very quickly.

A couple of second years edged toward the portrait hole, only to spring back when Arthur shouted again.

"Oh, in the name of all the gods of the old religion," Merlin muttered. "This is ridiculous."

Clutching his bag in one hand so that he wouldn't lose it, he shoved through the other students until he reached the portrait hole. Even though it had been so long he'd last heard them, the familiar threats held absolutely no sway over him. He highly doubted that Arthur could actually force him into the stocks or to muck out the stables.

Merlin nearly walked right into Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and for some odd reason, Snape when he exited the common common room, followed closely by Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny.

"Sorry professor!" Neville squeaked, having very nearly trodden on Snape's foot while trying to get out of the portrait hole without plowing into anybody. Snape glowered at him, until he noticed the disappointed look Merlin was sending his way.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Longbottom," he said through gritted teach. "Just ensure that you watch where you are going in the future."

Everyone gaped at him, except for Dumbledore, who just twinkled, and Merlin who was bracing himself for his reunion with Arthur. The portrait swung closed, revealing that it was empty of anyone save Arthur. The Fat Lady had obviously fled. Arthur had his back to the people in the hall and was uselessly staring at the back of the painting as though he would actually be able to see into the common room when it opened. He was still muttering threats. It seemed he'd upgraded to letting Gwaine have his way with Merlin in the tavern. That actually was a scary thought, or would have been if his old friend wasn't centuries dead and in no condition to get Merlin drunk.

"We've been attempting to get him out of there, but he won't listen," Professor McGonagall said irritably. "We can't even seem to banish him back to his own painting."

Merlin winced. He knew why that was.

"I thought that charm was working into every magical painting," said Hermione.

"Not the really old ones," Merlin answered before any of the professors could. "That variant of the banishing charm wasn't discovered until a few decades after magical paintings were invented and even then it took some time for the tradition to catch on."

Behind them, Arthur went still. He spun around, looking absolutely livid.

"MERLIN!"

The entire group jumped and spun to face him. Arthur marched up to the front of the painting, as close as he could get, and glowered at Merlin. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" he roared.

"Me?" Merlin stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do anything!"

"Don't try that with me, Merlin. You're the only-"

"I'm not Merlin!" he protested, fighting to keep any signs of the humor he was feeling out of his expression. "My name is Myrddin!"

"And I'm bloody Modred! You think that after all these years stuck with you that I'd forget what you look like? You were like a bloody puppy, always following me around! Don't you dare play games with me, or I'll tell everyone about Dragoon the Great!"

Merlin frowned. "Who?"

For several moments, the king stared at Merlin spluttering indignantly in a very undignified manner before eventually finding his voice and growling, "You know bloody well who Dragoon the Great is, now change me back before I see fit to enlighten everyone else!"

A couple of centuries ago, maybe four or five, that would have been a viable threat. The Knights had teased Merlin mercilessly when they'd discovered that he had been the old man. Now, the long white beard and creaking joints just seemed to be the image that Merlin was saddled with. He was far too accustomed to it for Dragoon the Great to be any real threat.

Professor McGongall stepped forward and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I haven't the faintest idea what is the matter with you, but please refrain from shouting at the students. This is not Merlin. His name is Myrddin Lyonesse and he is a fifth year student at this school."

"HE'S NOT A BLEEDING STUDENT! HE'S MERLIN, A CENTURIES OLD, INFINITELY POWERFUL, PAIN MY ARSE WARLOCK. A WARLOCK WHO IS TRYING MY PATIENCE!"

"If that is the case, then what would a warlock such as Merlin want with an insignificant portrait such as yourself, Sir Cadogan?" Snape asked silkily. He shot Merlin a curious glance as he did, since he knew who the warlock was. Merlin allowed his eyes to sparkle mischievously. Cocking his head just slightly, Snape's gaze became even more questioning. Merlin gently prodded through the potion's master legilimency shields and whispered,  _I'll explain later._

Arthur glared at Merlin before answering Snape. "Don't ask me to fathom the mind of that idiot. Is he the one that told you to use that ridiculous name? I'm not Sir Cadogan. I've never even heard of a Sir Cadogan!"

"Excuse me," said Hermione, addressing Arthur, 'but your name really is Sir Cadogan. I don't know what you think it is, but you're listed under that name in  _Hogwarts, A History_ in the paintings registry."

"Your history is mistaken. It's not my name."

"What is your name, then?" asked Ron.

The once and future king looked pained and extremely annoyed. He glared at Merlin. "You are an idiot and I'm going to lock in the stocks for the next hundred years." He turned back to the others. The teachers, except for Dumbledore who was still twinkling, looked irate while the students looked as though they were trying not to laugh. Arthur drew himself up regally. Merlin nearly choked in an effort not to laugh at the way the king's armor rose up, exposing his now pudgy stomach ever so slightly.

"I am Arthur Pendragon."

Ron snorted. "And I'm Godric Gryffindor."

"Mr. Weasley," McGongall reprimanded. "Perhaps you and your classmates had best proceed to the Great Hall. Miss Granger, please inform Professor Sprout that classes will be delayed."

Ginny glanced toward the portrait hole. "What about the others?"

"I suppose they'll be stuck in the dormitory until we sort this out," squeaked Professor Flitwick.

Recognizing that the joke had gone on long enough, Merlin turned to Arthur. "Look, I don't know why you think I'm Merlin or what you think I did, but I swear it wasn't me. Will you please stop frightening everyone and let them out of the dormitory?"

The entire time he was speaking out loud, he'd also reached out with his mind to speak directly to Arthur. It was a bit more difficult than talking to another person, because Arthur technically wasn't alive, but Merlin had worked out the kinks long ago.

_All right, listen you prat, it really is me, and while I won't deny that it's a laugh seeing you like this, I'm not the one that did it. I found you like that when I got here at the beginning of the school year. It's a very long story and I have good reason for leaving you looking like you've gone to seed. Now stop making a scene and I'll come by your painting upstairs later tonight to explain everything._

Arthur nodded to Merlin just slightly before making a show of calming his temper.

"I am sorry for my behavior," he apologized regally. "I'm not entirely sure what came over me. Please forgive me."

He bowed deeply and walked out of the frame without any further comment. Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I swear, that man gets stranger with every passing year. Mr. Weasley, please inform the others that it is safe to leave. I need to speak with the other professors about delaying morning classes a bit after this hang up."

She swept down the hall, Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore heading after her. Snape lingered.

"A word, Mr. Lyonesse?"

Merlin nodded and glanced over at Harry and the others. "I'll see you guys in the Great Hall."

"Is it just me or does he actually seem like he's looking forward to talking to Snape?" muttered Ron to Harry as they ducked back into the common to convince everyone they could leave without being attacked by a crazy painting.

Snape and Merlin only went as far as the nearest classroom.

"He didn't always look like that, Arthur I mean," said Merlin, the moment the door was shut behind them. He knew what Snape was curious about. "His portrait was hit with some badly cast spells several hundred years ago. We'd had a bit of an argument, so it took me until now to realize why he wasn't speaking to me."

"So that really is him?" Snape asked in mild surprise.

Merlin nodded. "Amazingly enough, yes it is."

"He's not exactly what I imagined."

"Part of that is probably my fault. If I'm not mistaken, the last thing he remembers is the argument we had. Arthur most like lyassumed that I turned him into Sir Cadogan as revenge of some sort. It is something I would do, I can admit."

"How did you know you were even here if he doesn't remember anything from the past few centuries?"

Merlin ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I sent him a message through the painting I have letting him know that I was here. I didn't know he was going to assault the tower when I told him."

"Neither of you are as the legends say," Snape said quietly, looking contemplative.

"History is rarely as cut and dry as people think it is. There are always many sides to every tale and they're rarely told without embellishment." Merlin's eyes became distant as he remembered. "Arthur was far from perfect. When we first met, he was an arrogant, bullying prat and I was just a mouthy peasant with more magic than he could control or even begin to understand. For a long time, Arthur did as his father ordered him. Even after Uther died, his decisions often affected Arthur's, whether it was right for the kingdom or not. He tended to take what he deemed to be matters of honor too seriously. But he was also one of the kindest, most noble men I ever knew. Few kings can claim even a fraction of the devotion for their people that Arthur held.

"I was no better. I made many mistakes. Mistakes that cost lives. I was given a destiny before I was ready. Magic was banned in those days. More often than not, I had no idea what I was doing. It was pure luck. Between serving Arthur and saving him, I had little time to study. There were times were I thought too highly of myself to listen to those with greater wisdom than I and there were consequences. Sometimes, I was too caught up in being a normal person to perform my duty as I was supposed to. No one from those days was as perfect as history would have us believe."

Professor Snape walked slowly across the room, his robe billowing behind him. "For one such as I, that is gratifying to hear, though it is nonetheless strange." His hand drifted unconsciously to his left arm.

"It is not our mistakes that make us, but how we chose to learn from them. You have learned better than most."

"I would not say that."

Merlin arched an eyebrow. "Why not? You've turned your back on one of the most powerful, most deadly Dark Lords of the age. What's more, you're spying on him. If he knew, he'd not only kill you, he'd do it as slowly and painfully as possible."

"It isn't enough to make up for what I've done."

"You'll never make up for it. You'll feel guilty not matter how many good deeds you do. I would know. There are things that I still feel guilty for even a thousand years later. All you can do is try to make the right decisions when it counts and to be a better man than you were when you made the choice that haunts you."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not. It's bloody difficult. But I find that most things that is true of most things. I must admit that I'm surprised you're telling me all of this," Merlin admitted. "Why are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair. He was being uncharacteristically emotional. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Gwaine used to tell me that I was better than a tankard of mead when it came to getting people to talk to me," Merlin said, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "He used to drag me along whenever he wanted to get information out of someone. I used to hate it because he'd inevitably get me incredibly drunk afterward."

When Snape's lips twitched slightly, Merlin decided to count it as a success. Then, the other man spoke. "Perhaps it is because I feel that you will not judge me. You've been more honest with me than anyone has in a very long time. I am grateful for that."

"I hate lying, which is ironic considering how often I am forced to hide things" Merlin admitted wryly. "When I can, I tell the truth. I feel that I owe it to the world."

For several long moments, the two men, wizard and warlock, stood side by side in silence. Merlin was pleased by the progress he was making with Snape. The man had a lot of pain bottled up inside of him, but he also had a lot of good within him and a lot of potential. Merlin only hoped he could help Snape to see that.

Eventually, Merlin broke the silence. "I should head to the Great Hall. I'm sure Harry and Ron think you've turned me into potion's ingredients by now, especially after you were relatively nice to Neville."

"Even I am not that cruel," Snape muttered.

"You can't exactly blame them for thinking that you might be," Merlin pointed out.

A strange look crossed the other man's face. Without another word to Merlin, he swept out of the room, leaving the warlock behind. He remained there for several minutes. It seemed he was doing more good than he'd originally thought. Maybe there wouldn't be any need to ask  _her_  for help.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Merlin knew it was wishful thinking. He was very nearly in over his head already. There was only so much he could do when he was just reacting.

Feeling a headache forming in his temples, Merlin made his way to the Great Hall. At least he had the surprise in Umbridge's classroom to look forward to.

* * *

After convincing the other Gryffindors that it was safe to go near the portrait hole - apparently too many of them remembered Sir Cadogan's brief stint as a guardian from two years ago to go near him - Harry went down to breakfast with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. He spent most of breakfast with one eye on the door, waiting for Myrddin to walk in. Harry hadn't forgotten that Myrddin had been missing from the dorm once more the night before. Sir Cadogan's odd behavior was another mystery to add to the list of things Harry had questions about Myrddin.

The man in question didn't show up until breakfast was almost over. He was very tightlipped about his conversation with Snape, despite their questions. Harry, having learned quickly that Myrddin only gave information when he chose to, gave up and focused on his breakfast.

Ron, on the other hand, was still badgering him as they made their way to class.

"He just wanted to talk about my progress in catching up with the curriculum," Myrddin groaned eventually. "It wasn't some dark scheme to kill me or anything."

"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Hermione snapped when she saw the skeptical expression on his face. "Just because you don't like Professor Snape and he isn't a particularly nice person does not mean that he is actually evil!"

"No, the fact that he hates Harry does," he retorted.

"Just give it a rest," Harry snapped. "Myrddin's obviously fine."

"I still say Snape could have Imperiused him," muttered Ron.

Hermione glared at him. "That's illegal! Professor Snape wouldn't do something like that."

"Moody did last year."

"That was a death eater, not Moody!"

"Snape's a death eater, too," Ron protested.

Myrddin elbowed Ron in the side. "Keep your voice down. That isn't something he wants spread around, especially since he's supposed to be a spy. You may not like the man, Ron, but don't put his life in danger."

Looking taken aback and angry, Ron stormed into the classroom, Hermione trailing after him looking a bit smug. Myrddin pulled Harry aside before he could follow as well.

"Please, try to keep your temper today," he whispered. "You don't need any more detention and I happen to know that something is going to happen in class. The last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'll behave. What exactly did you do?"

Myrddin just smirked. "Why don't you go see for yourself."

Curiosity officially piqued, Harry walked into the classroom. He stopped just inside the door. The entire class was standing in front of the teacher's desk, staring at the wall behind it. Glowing golden words had been carved into the stone above the blackboard.

_The old ones do not take lightly to the torture of children. Teach them well to defend themselves against the evil that lurks outside these walls, or suffer the wrath of Emrys._

"Who's Emrys?" asked Lavender.

"It's the Druidic name for Merlin," Hermione said, sounding slightly in awe. "I wonder who did this."

Harry rounded on Myrddin. "Are you mad?"

"Perhaps a little. The druids have always possessed the ability and the right to invoke the name of Merlin, especially the druidic variant. Any testing will show that this is no trick. It is a warning of the Old Religion."

"Isn't that risky?"

"Of course it is," said Myrddin, nonchalantly. "But a risk worth taking when there are so many lives at stake. Even if she does trace this back to me, which would require an amount of cleverness that I doubt that toad possesses, I can take care of myself." He raised his voice and addressed the whole class. "We should probably sit down. A message on the walls won't prevent Umbridge from giving us all detention."

That got everyone sitting. Word had spread among the students of what Umbridge's detentions were like. They'd all barely found their seats when the toad herself walked in.

"Good morning, class," she simpered.

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back in a monotone.

"Very good. You may begin reading chap- Who did this!"

The entire class winced at her high-pitched shriek.

"W-we don't know Professor," said Parvati. "It was there when we came in."

Umbridge pulled out her wand and pointed it at the message.  _"Finite incantatem!"_

Nothing happened. She tried again. This time, the words glowed even more brightly. Umbridge spun around. "Who did this?" she demanded. "Was it you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's blood boiled at the accusation. He was halfway out of his seat without even realizing it when Myrddin's voice sounded in his mind.

_Don't! That's what she wants. Use your head!_

Startled out of his anger, Harry sat back down and swallowed his retort. He shot a glance at Myrddin, who was resolutely staring at the glimmering words on the wall, his expression carefully blank.

"Mr. Potter!" Umbridge trilled dangerously. "Was this your doing?"

Harry took a deep breath. "No, it wasn't. I was as surprised as everyone else."

Umbridge smirked. "Do you really expect me to believe that, Mr. Potter, after the manner in which you have been misbehaving? Tell me how to end the spell, and you'll only be in detention for a week rather than the next month."

"Professor, I didn't do it," Harry protested.

"He couldn't have," said Hermione. "That's really ancient magic."

"And how would you know that, Miss Granger?" asked Umbridge.

Hermione straightened slightly in her chair and a hint of steel gleamed in her eye. "It's in  _A History of Magic._  Only certain, ancient spells allow someone to use the name of Emrys. As Merlin's druidic name, it has an inherent magic all it's own. You have to have a certain kind of magic to invoke it."

"Miss Granger, you are hardly an expert on ancient magic. You would do well to hold your tongue."

 _This is not the time,_  Myrddin's voice warned in Harry's head before Harry could even begin to formulate a retort for Hermione's defense.  _She's already looking to put you in detention for something you haven't done. Don't give her an actual reason._

 _How is he doing that?_  Harry demanded to himself.

Myrddin chuckled.  _It's a druidic gift, communicating with one's mind. I would not normally have done so without your consent, but I saw no other way to keep you out of detention._

_She's going to give me detention anyway._

As if to prove that very point, Umbridge smiled down at Harry. "Do you really want a month's worth of detention, Mr. Potter? One would hope that you would have better uses of your time. However, if this is the only way to discourage you from such vandalism…" She trailed off sadly and turned back toward the front of the room.

Harry shot a glare at Myrddin. The druid had his head ducked and his lips were moving soundlessly. Parvati suddenly gasped. Harry looked up.

Words of the same glimmering gold were appearing below the first message.  _Do not blame the innocent for that which you refuse to believe,_  they read.  _Punish any for this warning, and my wrath will be swift._ Harry glanced back to Myrddin, who was now smirking rather smugly. Harry could swear that he saw a hint of gold in Myrddin's eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

Umbridge rounded on Harry. "Mr. Potter! Cease this at once or I shall see you expelled for—"

"That won't be necessary, Dolores."

As one, the class looked up to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway. He seemed perfectly relaxed and was gazing curiously at the two messages etched into the stone.

"Professor Dumbledore," Umbridge said with an air of forced calm, a simpering smile pasted to her lips. "Surely some disciplinary action must be taken? Mr. Potter is, after all, threatening a teacher and a ministry official."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "What makes you think this is the work of Mr. Potter?"

"Who else could it be? He has already received detention for disrupting class."

"Ah, but this could not have been done by any student. In fact," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly as he continued, "I could not perform such magic upon Hogwarts."

Umbridge's jaw dropped as did the jaws of most of the students in the room. Harry glanced at Myrddin. Was he really more powerful that Dumbledore?

"Then who could it possibly be?"

"That is the question, is it not?" Dumbledore asked merrily. "This magic was thought lost long ago. I would think that perhaps Hogwarts herself is warning us. It is said that the Founders poured their very souls into the foundations of the school. But that is mere speculation, of course. One would hope that no teacher would dare perform acts heinous enough to warrant that sort of intervention."

"Of course not, Headmaster," Umbridge fluttered. Ron quickly turned a disbelieving snort into a hacking cough.

"Very good," smiled Dumbledore. "I think, given the circumstances, the Defense shall be cancelled until something can be done or until a new classroom can be arranged. You are dismissed."

In the chaos that was every racing simultaneously for the door, it did not escape Harry that Dumbledore still refused to look at him, but that the headmaster did give Myrddin a hard, calculating look that Myrddin returned without even flinching. There was something challenging in Myrddin's gaze, something that almost screamed "if you're not going to do something, then I will" and it made Harry wonder just how much Myrddin knew about everything that was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks out from behind desk, waving white flag sheepishly* So….I'm back? And yes, those question marks are supposed to be there. I'm really sorry for the epic delay. I had finals, and then I had to move out of my dorm. I had to drive literally half way across the country alone to get home. Then I had to move into my room because my family moved while I was at school so that actually meant moving in. On top of all of that my sister graduated, so it's been an ongoing ordeal. I haven't had the time or the energy to write more than a few paragraphs at a time.
> 
> Thing is, this is probably not going to change. I am on the brink of setting up a job that will not only pay well (I hope) but all require copious amounts of writing and research. I'll also be getting another part time job. My free time is going to decease drastically. I have so much on my plate right now, so many things that I need to do, and so many stories that need written, I honestly can't say what will get attention when. Updates may be painfully slow, but the will come. I apologize now for any inconvenience.
> 
> Also, I'm putting A Ripple in Destiny on hold. I've heard that fics of that nature are being deleted, so I want to wait and see if that's going to continue to be the case. It's also turning out to be one of my more difficult projects. The character commentary is just not up to par, no matter what I do.
> 
> Last, but not least, I had a reviewer point out that my Arthurian legend was a bit off. I don't pretend to be an expert or to have done too much research, but I do want to explain a few things. Historians think that if there was a King Arthur he lived somewhere around fifteen hundred years ago. However, the first tales we know as Arthurian legend didn't start appearing until about five hundred years later. For simplicity's sake, I decided that Arthur and Merlin lived twelve hundred years ago. This way, they definitely lived before Hogwarts was founded and I'm not pledging myself to either story line. I think I've said this before, but there are certain elements of myth that I'll be pulling into this fic. I'll try to remember to explain as I go.
> 
> Thanks for you patience and sorry for rambling.


	12. Glossary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a couple of people ask what some of the spells meant, so I figured I do this. I'll update it as I go.

Glossary

A few notes before we begin. First, I see the Old Religion as far more fluid than modern magic. If you know what you're doing and know the language, you can create a spell off the top of your head. Granted, this takes skill and power and I still believe there are certain spells that are sort of rote. Second, unless noted, the spells are in Old English. (W) means they're welsh. Third, I have switched word processors and haven't yet figured out all of the symbols, these might be a little bit different than they way they are spelled in the fic.

(listed in order of appearance)

**feorhhyrde ascufan deapscufan**

Life's guardian protector banish the death shadow

Old Religon version of patronus

**Iewan wiccunga**

Reveal/bring before the eyes the enchantment

Used to reveal spells cast upon objects

**Diffrwyth (w)**

To numb

Used to numb sensation/prevent pain

**Gwysio (w)**

to summon

to summon

**Screncan**

To cause to shrink/shrivel

To shrink something in size

**Ic ágraefe onuppan muras mynegung wider biter áglaecwif**

I carve upon the walls a warning against the cruel vile crone

Used to write a message on the walls of Umbridge's classroom


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their support and I want to clear up a few things. First, I’m not going to but this fic on hold. I just meant that my time to write is going to be drastically cut down. It’s taken longer than anticipated to get the job started, so I’ve had more time the last few weeks than I thought. The job I have is going to require a lot of writing and research. It’s going to be time consuming and exhausting. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop working on this fic. Second, “fics of this nature” are breaking the fourth wall fics. Stories where they characters read the books or watch the show. A lot of my favorite breaking the fourth wall fics from the HP fandom are being deleted, as are M rated fics. The latter to anything I’m currently working on and my M rated fics are backed. Breaking the fourth wall fics aren’t popular in the Merlin fandom, but I’d like to wait until this blows over a bit before I work on it, if it means getting it deleted. 
> 
> While I’m on the topic, if anyone knows someone or has themselves written fic versions of the episodes or even if they’re interested in trying, I’d greatly appreciate the help with A Ripple in Destiny. I’m running into issues getting the episodes written in a way that satisfies me. I’m getting so frustrated wit that that I can’t get the commentary written. If someone would like to cowrite with me, I’d love the help. 
> 
> Sorry for the massive AN. This chapter is NOT beta’d because I’m too impatient to wait after how long the last one took to get out. On to the fic!

It was quite possible that the disappointed look Dumbledore was currently giving Merlin was meant to have him squirming in his boots. Fortunately for the warlock in question, the headmaster had absolutely nothing on Gaius.

"Kilgharrah was under the impression you wished to speak to me," Merlin said calmly. He was leaning back comfortably in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, the very picture of ease.

"Indeed. Your display in Professor Umbridge's classroom was rather alarming. Exactly what were you hoping to gain?"

Merlin arched an eyebrow. "I would think it was obvious."

"Unfortunately not," Dumbledore replied, smiling serenely. "Perhaps you could enlighten an old man."

"Considering that of the two of us, I am the old man in all but appearance, that statement is rather misleading, but I'll do my best." Merlin abruptly sat up and leaned forward. "It seems to me that the one person in this school who has the ability to curb Madam Umbridge's power has done nothing."

"I am in a very delicate position, which I'm sure you can understand," said Dumbledore mildly. "If I cross Madam Umbridge too much the ministry will take control of the school. I believe we can both agree that that would not be beneficial for anyone."

"You are the headmaster of this school," Merlin hissed. He was rapidly becoming frustrated with what he considered excuses. "If memory serves me, Hogwarts is not under the authority of the ministry. It is meant to be separate so that it can remain unaffected by politics. That was of particular importance to the Founders as there was quite a lot of upheaval during their lives."

"Regardless of whether the ministry is supposed to have authority over the school, it is an unavoidable fact that they do."

"That does not change the fact that you should be doing something! Or are you really so oblivious to what that woman is doing?"

Dumbledore frowned. "I know exactly what it is that she is doing. I cannot oppose her without risking the school. Many parents take the ministry very seriously. If I were to even more publically oppose Cornelius or Madam Umbridge, it is quite likely we would lose students and they are far safer here."

"I am not asking you to oppose the ministry. I am asking you to look out for the safety of the students."

"Am I to understand, then, that your belief that I am doing nothing is what led you to act?"

Merlin nodded and leaned back once more. He forced himself to take a deep breath before speaking. "Disregarding the fact that as a person I can't stand by and do nothing while someone like her deliberately terrorizes the students, as a warlock of the Old Religion, I am compelled to act because this directly threatens the balance of magic."

Dumbledore actually looked taken aback by that. "What do you mean?"

It was a moment before Merlin answered. He hadn't actually meant to say that, but now that he did, it made sense and explained his need to do something. It was also the perfect way to explain his actions without betraying Harry's trust. Technically he could simply mention his own detention, but the headmaster had to know that he'd had that detention with Harry. The boy's trust in him was tenuous enough without trying to walk that line.

"To answer that, I must start at the beginning, over a thousand years ago," he said slowly. "It's a relatively long tale, if you wish to hear it. Or I can attempt to give you an abridged version if you prefer."

"I have the time," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling slightly even as his gaze was grave. "One cannot pass up an opportunity to learn, no matter what their age, and this is a rare opportunity."

Merlin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Very well. You know, of course, that magic is all about balance. What you may not know is that the balance is constantly shifting. It is rarely ever perfect. Things happen every day to tip it one way or another. The balance simply rights itself and the world moves on. Until it doesn't."

He paused and took a deep breath to calm himself. "Uther did something that disrupted the balance of life and death. To this day, I am not sure if he knew that and simply didn't care or if somehow he thought that he would not be affected by the repercussions, but he was. His wife was taken from him and he blamed magic. He sought to destroy all magic. We called it the Great Purge. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of sorcerers were killed. Many were innocents who'd never used their power for selfish gain or evil intent. A lot of magic left the world when that happened. The balance between magic and mortal was destroyed. It was a dark time for all. Uther ruled with an iron fist. He was cold and calculating. He was a strong king who defended his kingdom, but he cared little for his people. Magic was leaving the land because of the Purge. He even destroyed all save one of the dragons. He considered it a victory. He was wrong."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded. "Magic is an integral part of nature. Without it, the world cannot run as it is meant to. I would assume that the crops were less fertile, the weather less inviting, and so forth."

"Exactly. The Purge had horrible effects on Camelot that Uther wouldn't allow himself to see. Arthur spent a good deal of his early reign trying to fix it."

"I would think so."

Clearing his throat, Merlin continued on with his story. "The Purge never truly ended. Uther persecuted magic his whole life and taught Arthur to do the same. Sometimes I think it's a bloody miracle that I managed to get through to that prat and that he turned out to be such a great king, but that's beside the point. There came a time, about three years after the beginning of the Purge, that most of those with magic had fled Camelot. Uther no longer raided the forest for Druid camps and there were no longer executions every day in the courtyard. Historically, this is when the Purge ended. This is also when magic chose to act."

A fond smile stretched across Dumbledore's face. "Of course. Few today understand that magic is alive in a way. We merely tame it. This is, of course, why there are such dire repercussions to using it irresponsibly."

"Of course," said Merlin dryly. "After the Purge, the Old Religion sought to reestablish the balance of magic. All of that power that had left the world upon the deaths of so many men had to find its way back. And it did. Every single ounce of it, and more, was reborn in me.

"It gave me a destiny," he continued quickly, not giving Dumbledore enough time to concentrate. "For years I thought that destiny was simply to protect and guide Arthur. It wasn't until his time was nearing an end that Kilgharrah informed me of the circumstance of my birth and what price my magic came with. The Old Religion ensured that it was impossible for the balance of magic to be so broken again. So long as I walk the earth so does the Old Religion and the balance remains. Therefore, I cannot die until Old Magic permanently returns. At least, I hope that is the case."

Merlin leaned forward. He placed his elbows on his knees and stared intently at Dumbledore. "I do not tell you this to boast of my power or my place in destiny. I'd give it away if I could. Immortality is vastly overrated. I tell you this so that you might understand what can happen when the balance between two primal forces of nature is broken. The balance between life and death is now badly strained because of Voldemort's quest for power and immortality."

"But what has this to do with Madam Umbridge?" asked Dumbledore.

"Everything that is done because of Voldemort further effects the balance," Merlin snapped. He was beginning to grow impatient with the headmaster. "Every death at his hand, every life that is saved because we do something, every day that he lives when he should not. Umbridge is deliberately refusing to teach the students the skills they need to survive because she and the minister somehow think this will convince everyone that Voldemort isn't back. Ignoring the situation is only worsening it. If Umbridge continues teaching as she is, then the students will be vulnerable and every one of them that dies, even if it is a complete and utter accident, will further tip the balance that Voldemort first upset. And," he added, leaning further toward Dumbledore, "if she continues to discredit Harry then this battle will stretch on. He will be unprepared and delayed. Who knows what may happen. The balance is in grave danger, and it is my duty to do everything I can to right it."

Silence hung between them for a long moment. Merlin sat back in his chair. Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together in deep thought. "That is grave, indeed," said the headmaster. "I hadn't realized."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Merlin sighed. "The ways of the Old Religion have been long forgotten and even at its height, few understood just how intrinsically our lives are linked to magic or how much the balance of nature affects us. It's pure luck that I know as much as I do."

"And this is why you took action?"

Merlin nodded. "For the most part, yes. It's what has allowed me to step forward now without tipping the balance myself. If I'd only wanted to cause trouble, I would have been more discreet. Even it she doesn't truly understand my warning, I want Umbridge to have some concept of what exactly it is that she is doing."

"Of course," agreed Dumbledore. "I must admit, however, that I still do not understand why you chose to reveal that there is a druid in the school."

This was worse than trying to explain something to Gwaine when he was drunk. "By what other means can I act?" he asked. "I am bound by the same fate that sent me here to remain in the shadows until something shifts. What even I don't know, but that's the way it is. I can't challenge that toad as a student or as a warlock, especially not as Merlin. However, nothing can change the fact that I have the rights of a Druid."

"You mean you are not one?" interrupted Dumbledore.

Merlin smiled tiredly. "No. My personal views never quite coincided with theirs and my destiny with Arthur ensured that I had to be more involved in the matters of mere mortals than they normally were. That said, I am well versed in their customs and way because I was essentially their leader. That is what gives me the right to invoke the name of Emrys as a warning. Well," he grinned slightly, "that and the fact that it is actually my name. It serves the dual purpose of giving Umbridge a fright and warning her of just who she is angering."

"You said yourself that the warning would mean nothing to her."

Merlin had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "Am I wrong in guessing that she's already insisted on having someone from the ministry come to investigate?"

"You are not," said Dumbledore.

"If they aren't completely incompetent, they should be able to recognize the signs of druidic magic and if they don't, I'll make sure that they do."

The eyebrow rose again. "How do you propose to do that?"

"I daresay I'll figure it out. I've not gone completely unnoticed in the past twelve centuries, you know."

Dumbledore seemed to sigh resignedly without actually sighing. "I suppose then that I can anticipate further action against Madam Umbridge on your part? You were the one responsible for her unfortunate condition earlier this year, were you not?"

Merlin smirked at that. "A little harmless fun never did anyone ill. Madam Umbridge's condition both lightened the atmosphere and gained me some credibility with the other students."

The headmaster's eyes twinkled, even as he continued to look rather disapproving. "So long as your fun remains harmless, I see no reason to stop you. I believe even Severus found that amusing. I must also ask that you refrain from revealing anything further to Harry. He is not ready."

"You underestimate him," Merlin growled. "I've said it before, and I will say it again. Not only can Harry handle the knowledge you are keeping from him, but he deserves to know. This is his life we're talking about. If you would cease to protect him, you might just how much harm this forced ignorance is doing him."

"I have Harry's best interests at heart."

"Gaius had mine at heart when he told me not to reveal my magic to Morgana. Look how that ended. She went mad and almost destroyed Camelot."

"The two situations are vastly different."

Merlin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I do not pretend to know everything. In fact, I'm sure that there is much about all of this that I don't know. You may well know something I don't and maybe it's enough to convince you that I have no idea what I'm talking about. I think you're forgetting just what Harry has been through. I think you're forgetting that he has some idea of what is at stake. I think you're making a mistake."

A long silence stretched between them. Eventually, Merlin stood. "For what it's worth, I will respect your decision as long as I can. The moment this silence threatens the balance is the moment I tell Harry."

Dumbledore met Merlin's gaze and nodded. "I would expect nothing less."

"In that case, I should be going. I have another meeting to attend and I'd best hurry or he'll invade the Fat Lady's portrait again."

The twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "Then I'll not keep you. Good night, Merlin."

Merlin bowed slightly and left the room.

* * *

The walk to the North Tower was relatively short. Merlin ducked out of sight whenever he heard someone coming. It wasn't after hours just yet, but no one went up to the North Tower unless they absolutely had to. Sir Cadogan and the divination classroom were two things students tended to avoid at all costs. The last thing he needed was an audience for this conversation.

It was no surprise that Arthur was waiting for him. The king was leaning against the side of his portrait, arms crossed over his thick chest, scowling darkly. His frown darkened when he saw Merlin. The warlock had to fight not to laugh. An angry Sir Cadogan was not all that intimidating.

"What took you so long?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm pretending to be a student, you twit. I had classes until about an hour ago and then the headmaster wanted to speak to me."

"Causing trouble already, Merlin? You've been here for a few days, maybe?"

"A couple of weeks, actually."

Arthur scoffed. "That's impossible. I spoke to you just three days ago and you were at the blasted tower messing around with your trinkets. Or have you forgotten our argument already? I thought that was why you did this," he gestured to his rotund appearance, "in the first place."

Sighing, Merlin leaned against the wall opposite Arthur's painting and said quietly, "Arthur, we had that argument nearly three hundred years ago."

"I think I'd know if three hundred years had passed. That is difficult to miss." The king glared at him. "You're just messing with my head to get revenge for what I said, which I don't take back, by the way."

"You wouldn't remember anything if you'd been under a confundus charm the entire time," Merlin pointed out. "I spent the past three centuries thinking you absolutely hated me when you actually had no memory of me, or anything for that matter."

Beginning to look truly frustrated, Arthur stalked forward until he was as close to the edge of his portrait as he could get. "Stop playing games,  _Mer_ lin, and admit that you did something to me because you wanted to get back at me. You're nine hundred years old. Isn't it about time you grew up?"

"Have you taken the time to look around you, Arthur? Have you noticed the way the students have changed?" Merlin demanded. "Have you noticed that their robes are different? That their manner of speaking is different? Have you noticed that your bloody portrait isn't even in the same hall? Why do you think everyone has been calling you Sir Cadogan? That's who've been for the past three hundred blasted years!"

Arthur glared at him, but Merlin could see that the king was beginning to believe him. "Assuming that all of this is true, what happened to make me look like this if it wasn't you?"

"From what I can tell, you either caught a ricochet from a duel between two students or, for some reason, you were purposefully cursed. I would guess the former due to the spells that were used. However it happened, you spent the past three centuries under the influences of a bloating charm and a confundus charm, convinced that you were someone called Sir Cadogan. They were both badly cast, which explains why you completely forgot everything instead of being a bit disoriented for a few hours."

"And why did it take you three hundred years to discover this?" the king asked dangerously.

Merlin glared at his old friend. "What is the last thing you remember, sire?"

The use of the honorific made Arthur flinch. Almost all formality between the two had disappeared before Arthur died. In the centuries that had followed, any semblance of decorum between them had vanished entirely. When Merlin used any of Arthur's titles without some hint of sarcasm it usually meant that he was really, really annoyed.

Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself before answering. "We were fighting about the fact that you were doing absolutely nothing, once again. I got tired of listening to your endless reasons for why you couldn't act and walked away."

"What else?"

The king blanched as he remembered. "I told you not to bother speaking to me until you decided to get off your arse and do something with all your power." He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "Bloody hell. You thought I was ignoring you."

It wasn't a question, but Merlin answered anyway. "That was the worst fight we'd had in centuries, Arthur, and everything you said was true on some level. What was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know," Arthur sighed. "I really don't. As much I want to blame you for not having a bit more faith in our friendship, I really can't blame you. I said some things that I am not proud of."

Merlin smiled humorlessly. "We both did and it made me hesitant. I thought…I honestly thought that we might have gone too far that time. When I finally began to realize that something might be wrong, I was so annoyed by the lack of response and still so angry about what had happened that I couldn't bring myself to actually come here. I'm ashamed to admit that I did loose some faith in us. It made me feel as though one of the few constants in my life was no longer in my control. The years have not been kind, I'm afraid," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

Arthur nodded in agreement. "I would say that is true for both of us. This may be one of the most bizarre situations we've ever been in. I know that time has passed, but I still feel as if it has only been a few days since we last spoke."

"If you need time, I can give it to you," Merlin offered. "But first, you must know what has happened in the pas few decades."

"Can you take this spell off me first?" Arthur very nearly whined.

Merlin grimaced. "I really can't. I'd like to, but I can't. I have to do everything I can to remain more or less unnoticed. No one can know that I am Merlin. If Arthur Pendragon shows up in the school, especially after that display this morning, someone could figure out who I am."

"You are being deliberately cruel," said the king, glaring at Merlin without heat. "I suppose you'd better catch me up then."

Conjuring a chair, Merlin made himself comfortable and began his tale.

For the better part of the next hour and a half, Merlin recounted all that had happened in the past three hundred years. He glossed over quite a bit just to give Arthur context before going into agonizing detail when he reached Tom Riddle's days at Hogwarts. He told Arthur everything that he had seen and learned after the fact. He even described his own mistakes and oversights. It was a painful process for Merlin, who'd spent many night berating himself for doing nothing.

"That's why I'm here," he finally said. "The whole situation has finally become so dire that I won't be the one throwing the balance into chaos if I act. I'll be the one righting it. Again."

"You know, I've never understood how you can throw off the balance if magic is the reason you're still here in the first place," Arthur said tiredly. He was slumped against the edge of the portrait as if it was the only thing keeping him standing. The information had hit him hard, as it always did when there was strife in his kingdom.

"There's more than one balance," explained Merlin for what felt like the millionth time. "You're thinking about the balance between life and death and you're right on that count. I  _can't_ die. I'm not quite mortal, so I'm not throwing anything off by living. However, I am still technically a being of the past. If I effect the present too much then I risk upsetting the balance between past, present, and future."

Arthur waved off his explanation. "It still doesn't make sense to me and it never will, so just save your breath. I'm just glad you can actually do something for once."

A sad smile spread across Merlin's face. "You aren't the only one, but in so many ways it's like Camelot all over again. I'm hiding who I am again, I don't know all the facts, and I'm left reacting to everything instead of being proactive. I feel like I'm fighting a loosing battle, Arthur."

"You aren't," Arthur said bluntly. "You're already making a difference just by being here and it sounds to me as though you've done quite a bit to get Harry, Ron, and Hermione involved in what's going on. Which is not to mention that you're trying to do something about this toad woman. At this point, you just have to let it play out."

"I've never been got at that," Merlin grumbled.

Arthur chuckled. "You did a good job waiting for me to get my hear of my arse."

"You could have left long before I straightened out," Arthur pointed out softly.

That realization had saved their friendship all those years ago. When he'd found out about Merlin's magic, Arthur had been furious and incredibly hurt that Merlin had lied to him for so long. For days it had seemed like the end of their friendship. It hadn't been until Gwaine, of all people, made an "offhanded" comment during training, pointing out that Merlin must be incredibly loyal to have stayed in Camelot for so long. When everyone had stared at him with varying degrees of incredulity and confusion, he'd gone on to remind everyone that Merlin had stayed by Arthur's side for all the years that the king had denounced magic and had never once walked away. He'd fought for Arthur and Camelot with as much courage as any of the knights despite how much it must have hurt to have his closest friend hate everything that he was.

Arthur had called an end to training. He'd spent hours tearing apart his memories of his every adventure with Merlin. In the end, he had sought Merlin out that very night, cuffed him round the head, called him an idiot and told him he was fired. Arthur had let Merlin splutter indignantly for a moment before announcing that he was promoting Merlin to court sorcerer.

Merlin shrugged. "Well, you know. Destiny and all that. Didn't have much choice, did I?"

They both knew that wasn't at all true. If it had been, they never would have been friends.

"Do you even have a plan?" Arthur asked abruptly.

"Sort of," said Merlin. "At the moment I'm focusing on Umbridge. I need to find a way to distribute the bands I've been making to anyone who's had detention with her. Fred and George might be able to help with that. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are looking to start a defense club so that they can actually learn something and they've asked me to be involved. I might even teach them a bit of Old Magic."

"I suppose you can't do much to keep Voldemort from getting to the prophecy in the Ministry of Magic," Arthur mused. He began pacing the length of his portrait. "This Dumbledore person seems to have a specific idea of what to do about that from what you've said. You might be Melrin, but you can't afford to alienate a potential ally."

"Exactly," Merlin agreed.

"And you'd doing everything can to ensure that Harry doesn't loose his godfather as well, correct?"

Merlin nodded. "That's one of my priorities. It was one of the first things I saw when I looked into the crystal. I didn't seem them together much this summer, but from what I did see and from the way they speak about one another, it's clear that they are both very important to one another. Sirius is the close thing Harry has to a father."

Arthur looked up sharply when Merlin mentioned that, but didn't comment on it. "Have they spoken at all since the incident in the fireplace?"

"Not that I know of, but I don't want to push too much. They barely trust me as it is."

"Maybe the druid could do something?"

"Harry knows I'm a druid. If I play that card too much Harry might realize that I'm manipulating events, I could loose any trust he has in me."

"That would not be good, but a warning from Sirius might be the only way to get Harry to really understand what a threat Umbridge is. From the sound of it, you've barely convinced him not to fight back when she baits him."

"I suppose that's a risk I'll have to take when the time comes. For now, it might be enough for Myrddin to ask if something's wrong. Harry has looked rather stressed lately. Why are you still pacing?"

"Because I feel bloody useless!" Arthur snapped. "It's not as though I can actually do anything!"

"You mean besides offering me very good advice that I never would have thought of because I'm not a tactician and being a voice of wisdom when I need it?" Merlin asked dryly.

"Don't sell yourself short, you idiot. You'd have thought of it eventually."

"Whatever you say, prat. Walk into the next portrait and say  _ic tredde gesawen._ "

Arthur stopped short. "Why?"

"Just do it."

Shooting Merlin a wary look, Arthur did as he was asked. The neighboring portrait, a simple landscape remained empty. Merlin started to grin.

"You look like a simpleton," said Arthur's voice from the landscape.

Merlin shrugged. "You would know, wouldn't you? Now I need you to say  _ic beo gesiene._ "

The king grumbled under his breath, but repeated the spell. The painting rippled slightly and Arthur appeared in the middle of the landscape.

"Care to explain what that was all about it?"

"I was testing a theory."

"What theory?"

"Whether or not you can perform simple magic."

Arthur blinked. "We tried that ages ago."

"We tried that before you died."

"Doesn't it follow that if I couldn't use magic while I was alive that I can't use while I'm dead?"

"Not necessarily."

"Damn it, Merlin. Give me a straight answer!"

"A magical painting is made by capturing someone's memories, right?"

Arthur nodded, which Merlin took as a signal to continue. "Well, yours is a bit different because, while you are dead, you're still sort of alive."

"Merlin, if you don't start explaining, I will find a way to put you in the stocks."

"You've been threatening that for twelve hundred years," Merlin said dismissively. "Now shut up. I'm getting there. Because of all that once and future king business you're still bound to the world sort of like I am."

"Then why aren't I alive the way you are?"

"Because I have to be here as part of the balance of magic. Kilgharrah once told me that I'm magic incarnate. My presence in the world is essential to keeping magic, specifically the Old religion, in balance. Yours is too, but in a different way. You, specifically, help balance me out. At least, I think that what Kilgharrah meant. What's important is that you're not completely dead. The dead don't return. You and everyone directly connected to use and our destiny are waiting to return. You're in a sort of limbo between life and death."

"Right," Arthur said impatiently when Merlin paused to breathe. "That all makes sense and I'm pretty sure you've told it to my before. What does this have to do with my being able to do magic while I'm a bloody portrait?"

"Everything! See you're not just the memories of King Arthur like any other painting is. You're the magical manifestation of his consciousness. Right now, you are basically made of magic. I think the roll magic had in your birth might have an effect as well."

Arthur still looked confused. "And somehow all of this means that I can use magic myself?"

"Only to effect yourself," Merlin explained. "So you can use a simple invisibility spell such as the one I had you try to move unseen through Hogwarts."

"And why exactly would I want to do that?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because it would be really useful if someone could follow Umbridge without the risk of being thrown in detention. Only you can't get caught because I'm sure the story about this morning has spread already."

Whatever retort Arthur had thought up died on his tongue. He stared at Merlin, who was grinning broadly, for a moment before shaking himself and narrowing his eyes at the warlock.

"If I can be invisible, then why can't you turn me back into myself?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Because then we'd have to find a way to explain why Sir Cadogan has suddenly disappeared. You can't follow Umbridge all the time anyway. Dollophead."

"Still using those juvenile insults, Merlin? One would have thought you would have gotten new material after twelve hundred years."

"Yeah, but these are classics."

"No, they're pathetic."

"Whatever you say. I actually need to go or I'll be caught out after curfew. I have the other painting with me, so if anything happens send me a message. I'll check before I go to sleep."

"You do remember that I'm the king and the one who should be given orders, yes?" Arthur teased lightly.

"Of course, sire, but when did I ever follow the rules."

"Rarely, which is why you were such a bloody awful servant."

"I did give it my very best."

"If that was your very best, I think the world has cause to be frightened."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I'd be careful if I were you, Arthur. Just think of all the spells I can cast on your portrait."

"You wouldn't," Arthur growled.

Merlin just shrugged and took off down the hall, ignoring the familiar shouting of his name from behind him.

* * *

The common room had almost completely emptied and Ron was having trouble ignoring Hermione's disapproving glances toward his unfinished potions essay by the time Myrddin returned. He looked happier than Harry had ever seen him. There was a lightness in his step that suggested weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"How was your meeting with Dumbledore?" Ron asked when Myrddin sat down. "Did you get into any trouble?"

"Of course not," Myrddin said. "I told you. I couldn't get into any trouble for this. It's well within my rights as a druid to stand up to the toad. He just warned me not to take it too far. Sort of pointless, really. I wasn't planning to get violent or anything like that."

"Maybe," said Hermione quietly. "But Umbridge might."

"I'll just have to tread carefully then."

"What does using Merlin's druid name mean, anyway?" asked Harry. This had been bothering him all day. Myrddin had been so nonchalant about it that morning in class, but it had to mean something. Merlin had been one of the most powerful sorcerers to ever live. Surely using his name wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, I was wondering about that, too."

Myrddin shrugged. "It supposed to mean a lot of things, but I'm not sure that it does. A thousand years ago using Emrys' name was a claim to have some connection to him, usually as a pupil. I've read that the ability to conjure his name and the symbol of the Old Religion in tandem was an indication of power, but I don't think that's true."

"So it really doesn't mean anything?" asked Hermione.

"I suppose not," he said. "Though, there are some that say you can't lie if you're swearing by Emrys' name. No one really knows. I just used it because it's undeniably druidic."

"It would be funny if Umbridge actually thought Merlin was after her," said Ron with a grin.

"From what I know of him, he would have been," Myrddin said, grinning as well.

Hermione did see the humor. "What are you going to do now? She'll be looking for you."

"They'll never trace it back to me," Myrddin assured her. "Druidic magic is different than what you use. There's a reason the ministry didn't know I was in the alley when they tried to railroad Harry at the trial over the summer."

"I knew you did something to that dementor!" Harry glared at Myrddin. "There was no way that could be a patronus."

Myrddin looked a bit sheepish. "I meant to tell you that. I couldn't remember the patronus charm so I tried something I read in my old spell book. I wasn't even sure it would work, but I thought it might distract the dementor long enough for you to find your wand."

"You could have been killed!" Hermione gasped, looking between Harry and Myrddin worried.

"No, we would have lost our souls, but we still would have been alive," Harry reminded her.

Hermione glared at him.

"I had to do something," said Myrddin gently. "Even if it didn't work, I'd have never forgiven myself if I didn't try."

His words seemed to have little effect on Hermione, who was shaken by just how close her two friends, even if Myrddin had only recently earned that title, had come to dying.

"Just how powerful are you?" asked Ron in a clear attempt to change the topic.

Myrddin frowned slightly. "What?"

"You said that using Merlin's druid name was a sign of power. So how powerful are you?"

"Destroying the dementor must have needed a great deal of magic," added Hermione in a small voice.

Harry nodded. "And you healed your hand without a spell."

Looking distinctly uncomfortable with their line of questions, Myrddin shifted his weight and shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, people say that using Merlin's druid name is a sign of power, but there's no proof of that and there aren't that many others to measure against. I think I'm pretty much average, but I could be wrong."

"So you don't know," Ron surmised doubtfully.

"Pretty much. Do you guys know where Kilgharrah is?" he asked.

"He went upstairs about an hour ago," Harry said absently, already preoccupied with what Myrddin had said.

"I guess I'd better head up." Myrddin suppressed a yawn. "I'll see you lot in the morning."

They all chorused goodnight and Harry watched him disappear up the stairs to the dormitory.

"He's still not telling us something, isn't he?" said Ron the moment he heard the dormitory door close.

Hermione nodded. "I've read a lot about the druids since he told us and I've never heard anything about using Merlin's name like that. Those words were actually carved into the stone. It would take an immense amount of power to alter Hogwarts like that."

"I wonder what he was doing in the North Tower," Harry muttered. They'd begun to get worried about an hour before Myrddin had returned to the common room and had checked the Marauders map. "He was just standing there."

"Maybe he was thinking?" suggested Ron doubtfully.

"Did you see the way his name was flickering?" Harry continued. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I suppose the charms could be wearing off. The map is probably twenty years old," Hermione added quickly when Harry turned to glare at her. "No matter how clever they were in creating it, the spells could be getting old. You should ask Snuffles. He might know what it means."

"Myrddin might know a way for you to talk to him safely," said Ron. "He probably won't ask too many questions."

"I'll think about it," Harry muttered.

"It's just, there's so much that doesn't quite add up," Hermione burst out. "He seems quite a bit more powerful than he lets on. He was vague when he told us he's a druid, which is a really good explanation for why he's so secretive when you think about it, and did you notice what he said about how old he is? He'd have to be closer to thirty or even forty to have waited decades for his friend to change his mind about magic. What could he possibly be hiding?"

"I dunno, but he doesn't seem like a bad person," Ron pointed out. "Look at what's he done to Umbridge and he has Dumbledore's trust."

"So does Snape," said Harry.

"Point, but Myrddin doesn't make me dream about drowning him in my cauldron. Snape does. He may be secretive, but he hasn't actually done anything to give us any reason to think he's—"

"This is pointless," interrupted Hermione.

"Thanks," Ron grumbled.

She immediately looked apologetic. "I don't mean you, Ron. I mean this whole argument. We've been having it ever since he showed up at headquarters this summer, and we've gotten nowhere. All we can do is keep a close eye on him and be ready if something does happen. Talking about it is accomplishing nothing. Have you thought about the defense group?" she asked, spinning round to face Harry.

"A little," he admitted. "I'm still not sure it would be a good idea."

"I think you're wrong. We could learn loads from you, Harry, but it's your choice. Just remember that a lot of lives could depend on whether or not you help us. I'll see you in the morning."

"That was low," Ron muttered, also rising to leave.

Harry nodded. "She gets better and better at that."

"She has a point, though," he said over his shoulder. "You're the only one who's fought him and you mastered all those spells for the third task faster than Hermione could have."

"You're mental," said Harry weakly.

Ron grinned. "Mate, I knew that first year when I followed you into the girl's bathroom to fight a troll. G'night."

Rubbing his temples, Harry dropped into one of the squashy armchairs in front of the fire. His head was spinning. He stared into the fire for a long time in a vain attempt to untangle his thoughts. So much didn't quite make sense. All of Myrddin's slips meant something, but he couldn't figure out what. There was a reason Dumbledore refused to meet his eye, but Harry had no idea what it might mean. There was something to the idea of the defense club, but he was sure that he was the right person to teach it. Half the school thought he was a lunatic.

When he finally gave up and went upstairs, he was just as confused and frustrated as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd explain something really quick. The reason it's such a big deal that Merlin was able to alter the school is because the wards are technically supposed to prevent that. They've gotten weak with time, so it's not quite as impressive an accomplishment as Hermione thinks it is, but it is still pretty impressive, mostly because he did use Old Magic. If you have any questions about Arthur and the painting and the magic, let me know.


	14. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHITE FLAG! Explanations and author's note are at the end of the chapter. I figure I've made you wait long enough.

Dumbledore sighed wearily as he leaned back in his armchair and watched the flames fade from emerald to orange. It had been a long few days. The ministry had sent over experts and aurors early in the morning three days ago to investigate Merlin's ominous warning. Dumbledore had amused himself with standing in the shadows while they tried to figure out just how the words had been etched into the stone. They had quickly determined that it was definitely the result of very old magic, of the kind they'd never seen before save in traces at some of the most ancient magical sites. Both the Minister and Madam Umbridge had been fuming with the lack of solid answers. The headmaster had thought that Cornelius was going to explode when the magical experts told him that there was no way to track whomever had cast the spell and that there was also no way to remove it. The words would have to fade with time.

In the end, the headmaster had suggested simply moving to a new classroom. Madam Umbridge hadn't been happy that whoever had left the warning was going unpunished, but she wasn't about to each in a room that contained a threat to her. Dumbledore had to hand it to Meriln. It had been clever to use his druidic name to warn the Ministry. Not only had it marked the warning as authentic, but it couldn't be traced back to Myrddin. It would, however, inevitably lead to the legend of Merlin, which would certainly get the point across.

Since then, Madam Umbridge had been on something of a rampage. The number of detentions she'd given out had gone up significantly after Merlin's little message in a vain attempt to punish the perpetrator for something. Merlin had been keeping his head down, so it wasn't really working. As if terrorizing the students wasn't enough, Madam Umbridge was pushing harder than ever for more control within the school.

In truth, she was the least of Dumbledore's troubles. Remus and Sirius were quite adamant about being allowed to see Harry. As it was too dangerous for Sirius to enter the school, Remus had been left with the task of explaining. He'd danced around the details, but it had been enough for Dumbledore to ascertain a vague idea of what had happened. He'd known from the beginning that being cooped up in his ancestral home was difficult for Sirius, especially given how little time he'd had to actually recover from his imprisonment. It was clear, even considering how careful Remus had been not to mention details, that Sirius had said something unwise.

It had pained Dumbledore to tell Remus that he couldn't allow Sirius and Harry to meet. It was just as dangerous for Harry to leave the school as it was for Sirius to enter it with Madam Umbridge sniffing around for anything and everything she could use against Dumbledore. For that same reason, they couldn't owl each other or floo-call. Dumbledore knew full well that with the pressure he was under and just how isolated he was Harry needed Sirius. He wasn't the only one to see that, either. He'd rarely seen Remus so concerned. It was quite clear that whatever had happened between Harry and Sirius needed to be resolved. Unfortunately, Dumbledore could think of no safe way for them to get the two of them in the same room.

In a quiet rush of wings, Fawkes soared down from the shadows near the ceiling and alighted on the desk in front of the headmaster. The phoenix cocked is head and warbled pointedly. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose Merlin might have a way for them to speak," Dumbledore murmured. "I will send him a message come morning. It's already late."

Fawkes warbled again almost disapprovingly before fluttering over to his stand. Dumbledore sighed again. That was the other problem, though it wasn't a problem as such. More of an unforeseen complication, he supposed. Merlin was a variable that the headmaster could never have foreseen or prepared for.

Though he did understand that Voldemort had tampered with magic far beyond any of their comprehension and how important it was that Merlin help repair the balance, Dumbledore couldn't deny that the warlock's involvement was complicating matters. He had made it clear that he had his own agenda. He wanted Voldemort gone as much as the next man, but he would do it his own way if he had to. Merlin was looking at a bigger picture that only he could see. He knew more about the situation than anyone in the wizarding world.

But he didn't know everything.

Dumbledore was almost sure that Merlin had some idea of Voldemort's horcruxes though the warlock hadn't said as much to him. However he didn't think that Merlin knew of the possibility that Harry himself was a horcrux. Merlin had also made it clear that he knew of the prophecy, and that he was at least suspicious of it's contents. Dumbledore was grateful that Merlin wasn't pushing for information he didn't have, even if he had made it clear that he didn't approve of the headmaster's decision to keep certain facts to himself.

Perhaps there was some folly in keeping information from Merlin. He was, after all, the most powerful warlock to have ever lived and there was no chance that he was allied with Voldemort. He was just as invested in Riddle's defeat as anyone else. By all rights, Dumbledore should probably be seeking Merlin's help but there were certain suspicious that he hadn't confirmed. He was still trying to collect information on the horcruxes. Nothing was quite certain and until it was, he'd much rather keep the details to himself.

It was all becoming a bit difficult to manage. Merlin rightfully had his own concerns and wasn't afraid to let Dumbledore know that, a trait that most likely came from dealing with various kings and officials during his life. Keeping everyone happy, or happy enough, while ensuring a victory in the swiftly approaching war was beginning to tell on the aging headmaster. He could only hope that he was making the right decision. Only time would tell.

* * *

Making his way through Hogsmeade, Merlin pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and unfolded it, his eyes scanning words that he already had memorized.

_I seem to have a bit of a problem that I hope you might be able to help me with. Padfoot had a falling out with Harry that he is rather desperate to resolve. He has been quite insistent that I allow him to speak to Harry. As you know, it is rather difficult for them to contact one another using any conventional methods. I do think that this is something that needs to be resolved, for both their sakes. Perhaps you might know of some way for them to speak safely?_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Despite having only received the letter that morning, the edges of the parchment were already worn and the letter itself was creased from the number of times Merlin had pulled it out of his pocket, read it, and stuffed it away again.

He'd been surprised to see Fawkes perched at the foot of his bed when he woke up. The phoenix had let out a quiet call when he saw that Merlin was awake and sitting up. Without further ado, the phoenix had fluttered onto Merlin's knee and dropped the letter into his lap. Absently stroking Fawkes' feathers, Merlin had read the note. He'd immediately begun contemplating the best way to get Sirius and Harry in the same place.

He shoved the note back into his pocket and pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks. By chance, he'd overheard Hermione telling Ron and Harry that everyone was going to meet at the Hogshead, a more out of the way pub that was rarely frequented by students. Merlin had innocently asked if it would be suspicious if a bunch of students suddenly showed up there. Hermione's eyes had gone wide. Eventually, they'd decided that it ought to be safe enough to meet at the Three Broomsticks, as long as they weren't too conspicuous.

The trio was sitting at a back table in the corner. A couple of the tables near them were also empty. Merlin sighed. He hoped Hermione hadn't invited too many people. Too large a group would be suspicious no matter where they were meeting.

He wove his way through the crowd toward the table. Hermione brightened when she sawy him.

"Myrddin! You made it. I was beginning to think that you weren't coming."

"I said I'd come. I was just a bit lost in thought and it was more of a walk from the school than I expected." He pulled out the chair next to Harry and sat down. "When are the others supposed to get here? And how many are there?"

"Just a few," said Hermione distractedly, checking her watched and then looking towards the door. "I told them to be here about now—oh look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub opened and a crowd of people spilled through the door. It wasn't uncommon for there to be a steady stream of students to be coming and going from the Three Broomsticks, but this was something different. Merlin felt the urge to slap his forehead. Had these children never heard of subtlety? He supposed it wasn't really their fault. They were doing their best.

Neville lead the large group of students, followed closely by Dean, Lavendar, the Patil twins, Cho Chang and one of her friends, Luna Lovegood (Merlin was mildly surprised, but glad to see her there, he was hoping to get to know her better), the Gryffindor quidditch girls, the Creevey brothers, Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbot, a handful of students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Ginny, Lee Jordan, and the Weasley twins brought up the rear.

"A couple of people?" Harry choked, gaping at Hermione. " _A couple of people?"_

"The idea was quiet popular. There was a lot of interest," said Hermione happily. "Ron, would you pull up some more chairs?"

Harry looked as though he'd been asked to fight the Hungarian Horntail again. He stared in horror as Fred counted heads and ordered butterbeers for everyone from Madam Romsmerta who, despite being accustomed to having her pub overrun with students during Hogsmeade weekends, looked surprised at seeing so many come bursting in at once.

"Cough up, everyone," said Fred, helping hand the drinks out when she returned with a packed tray. "I haven't got enough gold for all of these."

While everyone was distracted, Merlin leaned around Harry and grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her close so that he could whisper to them both. "I understand your intention and frankly I'm quite happy that there is so much interest in this, but I hope you realize just how dangerous this is. A couple of people meeting up wouldn't attract that much attention. This many people, even here, is out of the ordinary. I wouldn't be at all surprised if word made it back to Umbridge."

Hermione looked horrified. "Oh, I didn't think of that."

"It's understandable. Like I said, this kind of interest is a good thing," said Merlin. "I should be able to cast a spell so that no one can hear what we're saying. I once used it quite often. Anyone attempting to overhear us will catch a completely mundane conversation, but that won't stop them from noticing that we're definitely having some sort of meeting."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Hermione fretted.

"It's too late to back out," pointed out Merlin. "We're already here. We might as well get the job done. Give me a moment to cast the spell before you get started. I've got to remember the incantation."

Closing his eyes, Merlin searched through his mind for the spell. It had come in handy a few years after Arthur lifted the ban on magic. There had once again been rumors of Morgana having a spy in the court. They'd all been a bit paranoid given the fact that every time Morgana made her way into the castle a lot of people suffered for it. The need for privacy and security had been of the utmost importance. Merlin had used the spell sporadically through the years, but since he'd more or less withdrawn from society there hadn't been any real need for it.

It took some times to sort through his mind. He'd spent a lot of the past millennia bored in between watching the world pass by. A lot of his time was spent reading. He'd acquired quite a bit of knowledge. It was a miracle that his mind could hold it all, which probably had something to do with magic. It could get a bit confusing inside his mind sometimes.

Eventually he landed on the spell he needed. Keeping his head bowed, he whispered,  _"Mierran cwidegliedd aet fals eare."_

The noise of the pub dimmed. Merlin glanced over to the others. Hermione was trying to placate Harry. "They just want to hear what you've got to say," she said. Harry continued to glare furiously at her, obviously not pleased with the prospect of having to go over what had happened in the graveyard again. Hermione hurried to add, "You don't have to do anything yet. I'll speak to them first."

Before Harry could retort, Neville sat down opposite him and grinned. "Hi, Harry."

Harry mustered a weak smile that wasn't at all convincing. He looked like he was going to be sick. Sighing to himself, Merlin sat back in his chair and surveyed the new comers. Some of them, the girl who had come with Cho in particular, were looking at Harry mistrustfully. They were most likely there just to hear what Harry had to say about Voldemort. Merlin knew that wouldn't go over well. He hoped that the others were genuinely interested in learning Defense, for Harry's sake.

"Er—well—hi," Hermione stammered, her voice a bit higher than usual, successfully pulling the attention from Harry. "Well…erm…I suppose you know why you're here. Erm…well, Harry had the idea – I mean—" she backpedalled quickly at a sharp look from Harry. Merlin hid an amused smile at the two friends as Hermione continued. "I had the idea that might be good if people who wanted to study Defense against the Dark Arts—and I mean really study it, you know, not that rubbish Umbridge is doing with us. I thought it might be good if we took matters into our own hands."

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the group, which seemed to help embolden Hermione.

"And by that I mean leaning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, but the real spells—"

"You mean so that we can actually pass our OWLs, I bet?" said Ernie MacMlillan.

"Of course," Hermione said quickly, "but it's more than that. I want to be properly trained in Defense because…because…" She took a deep breath. Merlin braced himself. "Because Lord Voldemort's back."

There was an uproar at her pronouncement. Several students shrieked or started so violently that they slopped their drinks down their fronts. They all looed vaguely terrified at the mention of Voldemort, though in many cases their terror was swiftly fading to curiosity as they looked eagerly at Harry. Merlin crossed his arms as he surveyed the group. He'd harbored the slight hope that the trio would wait until someone else brought up Voldemort. It didn't really matter that much as it was inevitable that the topic be discussed given the real reason for the study group, but it would have put the others less on the defense.

"Well, that's the plan," continued Hermione brightly, deliberately ignoring the chaos created by her statement. "If you want to join us we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Wait a minute, where's the proof?" a boy near the back demanded. Merlin thought that he might be a member of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, but he wasn't entirely sure. "How do you know that You-Know-Who's back?"

"Well Dumbledore believes it—" Hermione began. Merlin almost groaned out loud. They weren't interested in what Dumbledore thought. That wouldn't help any.

"You mean Dumbledore believes him!" the blonde boy spat, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" demanded Ron a bit rudely. Merlin heartily concurred with the question.

"Zacharias Smith," answered the boy, "and I think we've got a right to know exactly what makes him say that You-Know-Who is back."

"Look," said Hermione, "that's really now what this meeting is about—"

"It's all right," Harry interrupted.

He looked rather pale, but determined, as though he'd fully realized that most of them were only there to hear his story first hand. Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the boy. He knew how hard it was to have to stand up and talk about some of the most difficult experiences he'd even endured just to prove himself.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the eye and speaking calmly. "I saw him. But you know that. Dumbledore told the entire school what happened last year, and if you don't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince you."

For a moment, there was silence as everyone waited with bated breath for Harry to go on, but he didn't. Zacharias snorted dismissively.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought his body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details. He didn't tell us how Diggory was murdered. I think we'd all like to know—"

Merlin could practically feel anger radiating off Harry and found that he couldn't blame the boy. He'd feel the same way if someone had been speaking that way about Will or Lancelot. He fixed Zacharias with the glare he'd once used on Arthur when he was being unreasonable. It had always served to make the king stop and listen.

"If you've come here just to talk about the death of a fellow student, then I think you'd best leave," Merlin said calmly before Harry could snap something. Given the way Harry's temper had been prone to flaring, he was likely to scare everyone off if he got his wind on the matter. "We're not here to discuss what it's like to watch someone being murdered, least of all murdered by Voldemort."

"You can all clear out if that's what you're looking for," added Harry angrily.

"So," said Hermione, her voice more high-pitched than before. "So…like I was saying…if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"

"Is it try that you can produce a corporeal Patronus?" interrupted a girl that Merlin didn't recognize, though she did look vaguely familiar.

There was a murmur through the group. Harry just looked taken aback. "Yeah," he said a bit defensively.

"A fully corporeal Patronus?"

It clicked for both Melrin and Harry at the same moment.

"You don't know Madam Bones, do you?" asked Harry.

The girl smiled. "She's my auntie. I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So—is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry. He still seemed a bit surprised.

"Blimey, Harry!" Lee said, looking very impressed and excited. "I never knew that."

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention."

Merlin made a mental note to do something nice for Molly Weasley the next time he saw her. He didn't agree with her approach to mothering Harry and coming between him and Sirius, but she did care and she'd hit the nail on the head with that one. Apparently Harry agreed, because Merlin heard him mutter, "She's not wrong about that."

Several others sitting nearby overheard him as well and chuckled.

"Did you really kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" asked a Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, Merlin thought. "That's what one of the potraits told me when I was in there last year."

"Er—yeah, I did," said Harry.

His faced reddened at the several appreciative reactions that garnered.

Neville swiveled in his chair to address the group at large. "And in our first year he saved that Sorcerous Stone—"

"Sorcerer's" hissed Hermione."

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Merlin tuned out Cho Chang's accounting of the various trials of the Triwizard Tournament to focus on Harry. He looked uncomfortable with the attention, but mostly he seemed surprised that everyone remembered all the things he'd done. Merlin fought back a smile. Arthur would have been absolutely preening by this point. Harry just looked like he wanted to fall through the floor, but at least this meant that his fellow students knew something of all he had done for them. Finally, it seemed like he'd had enough.

"Look," he said. Everyone fell silent at once, which seemed to throw Harry for a moment. "I…I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but…I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"You faced the dragon alone," pointed out a boy in the middle of the group. "And that flying was all you."

"Auntie said that you were fighting off the dementors this summer on your own before Myrddin showed up," added Susan, much to Merlin's surprise.

"All right, so I did bits of it alone," Harry allowed, "but the point I'm trying to make—"

"Are you trying to get out of showing us any of this stuff?" asked Zacharias.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, "why don't you shut your mouth."

That was something Merlin was tempted to enforce himself, especially when Smith retorted, "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

"That's not what he said," Fred snarled. Ron was glaring at Zacharias as though he wanted nothing more than to punch his head in.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of his bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Moving on," said Hermione hastily before the twins could follow through with their threat. "The point is, are we agreed that we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of assent. Zacharias Smith crossed his arms, but didn't protest.

The rest of the meeting went pretty smoothly. Merlin contented himself with simply watching. They really didn't need him. The trio, or rather Hermione, had covered all the bases, but he was more or less part of the group at this point. If he hadn't shown up it would have been suspicious and Hermione would never have forgiven him after all the work she'd put in to convincing Harry. So he sat quietly in a show of support and listened. When the paper was passed around to be signed, he hid a grin at Hermione's ingenuity and added a bit of power to the curse, just to be sure that it held.

Merlin handed the parchment back to Hermione. As the meeting was almost over, he allowed his concentration to drift to just how he was going to help Sirius talk to Harry. Given the nature of their argument, he rather thought that they actually needed to be in the same place. The only problem was that there was no good way to do it considering that Harry knew that he was a druid and Sirius didn't. The last thing he needed was for Sirius to get distracted by the fact that Merlin was the man who'd appeared in his kitchen. He couldn't even act in secrecy because Harry would be able to trace it all back to him.

"Well that went rather well," said Hermione, sounding quite satisfied. "I'm so glad that there are so many people interested in actually learning Defense!"

"More importantly, they're willing to believe Harry," added Merlin.

Ron was still glowering at the door. "I can't believe the nerve of that Smith git. Who does he think he is?"

"I hate to admit it, but he's got a right to ask those questions," said Merlin. "The Ministry and the Prophet have succeeded in discrediting Harry. They've confused people. I don't deny that Smith went about it the wrong way, but he had good reason to ask."

"That doesn't change the fact that he's a git," Ron grumbled.

Merlin chuckled. "No, it doesn't. I almost wish that Fred and George had carried out their threat. I know that I was tempted to do something."

Looking as exasperated as Gaius had been after some of Merlin's crazier schemes, Hermione changed the subject. "Myrddin, you mentioned before that you might be willing to teach something about Druid Magic. Are you still willing to do that?"

"I am," said Merlin slowly. "The Old Ways have mostly been forgotten and for good reason. There aren't many people who possess the right kind of magic. Still, there are some simple spells you should be able to learn and with Voldemort on the loose again, we'll need all the help we can get. Harry should teach them for a while before we even come to that, so I've got time to figure it out."

Hermione beamed. "That'll be wonderful! Even the theory will be useful. We could use it to create and improve all sorts of spells!"

"I'm sure it could," Merlin agreed, having done just that himself on numerous occasions. "If you're that interested, I've got a couple of books you might like to look at."

"Don't you two get started," Ron moaned. "It's Saturday! And a Hogsmeade weekend as well. If you get started on that, you'll never stop and I'd like to enjoy a little bit of the weekend now that this business is out of the way."

"Honestly, Ronald. This is important! It could be a matter of life and death!"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic!" Hermione screeched.

Merlin leaned over to Harry, who seemed lost in thought. "Should we leave them to it?" he asked.

Noticing for the first time that his best friends were arguing, Harry nodded and the two slipped out of the pub. Neither of them spoke much. Both were too preoccupied with their own thoughts. Merlin was almost sure that Harry was having second thoughts about the defense club and he was still trying to figure out a way to get the boy in the same room as his godfather without revealing the extent of his meddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. A bit shorter and not as action packed as I would like, but this was sort of a necessary chapter. It was a pain to write. I had the worst writer's block. It's always hard to write a chapter that is so close to the book. There's a fine line between tweaking the chapter enough to make it fit the new plot and just rehashing what hasn't changed. I had a lot of trouble with that. I wanted Merlin to be there at the first DA meeting, but I didn't want him to take over the meeting. He's not there to take everything over. He's influencing events form the shadows for now. It was really hard to write that without just rewriting the entire scene pretty much verbatim from the book. It took forever!
> 
> I really wanted to take the time this chapter to make it clear that this isn't supposed to be a Dumbledore-bashing fic. I may not agree with some of his choices, but I honestly think that he was trying to do the right thing. You can debate me on that all you want. I won't deny that he had some ulterior motives. Anyway, that's not what this is meant to be. Hopefully I've made it clear just why Dumbledore is holding out on Merlin.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to write. I've got a pretty good idea what's going to happen next, but the next couple of chapters are going to be a bit difficult because I've got to bring a bit more of canon into the fic and weave in some new plot points at the same time. It's all getting a bit intricate. I'll try to update more quickly this time, but no guarantees. You guys have no idea how much it means to have you stick with me.


	15. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once again wave the white flag. This chapter drove me up the wall. I have four different versions of it on my computer. I don't think there's too much to say beyond that. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little easier since it relies less on existing material. This chapter was very quickly edited and it's a bit late, so it's probably full of typos.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! Enjoy the chapter!

The rest of the weekend passed by relatively uneventfully. While the trio enjoyed the sunshine, Merlin spent most of it cooped up in the dorm, hidden behind the curtains, trying to make more of the enchanted bracelets. It proved to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. Imbuing the leather with the various spells was simple, but creating anything other than the simple bands he and Harry were wearing was not going as easily as he'd hoped.

He knew that it would be too obvious for everyone who had detention with Umbridge to show up wearing the exact same band around his or her wrists. Someone, likely the toad, would bet suspicious. But, it had been years since he'd done any serious leatherwork. In Camelot, it had been a relatively common duty, part of keeping Arthur's life running smoothly - or as smoothly as Merlin let it run when they were in between magical crises. Anyway, casting an illusion to change the appearance of the leather interfered with the charm that mimicked the effects of the blood quill, which left Merlin attempting to revive his long neglected leather-working skills.

It was a tedious process of trial and error. Making something like jewelry was a more delicate process than repairing a saddle or armor, but by the end of the day, Merlin felt like he'd gotten the hang of it and when he stopped for the night, he had almost two dozen bracelets made in varying designs and fully enchanted.

As he worked, Merlin spent a lot of time thinking about the problem of getting Harry and Sirius together. He'd already ruled out anything resembling scrying. That could go wrong in so many ways. He knew enough about the issues between the two wizards to know that they couldn't have the option of just walking away from each other. They needed to be in the some place where they couldn't be interrupted and where they were forced to face the problem. That necessity severely limited Merlin's options, especially since Sirius was a wanted man and Harry was practically being stalked by Umbridge. They couldn't be seen.

Kilgharrah was of very little help when Merlin voiced his problem in the hope of getting some advice.

"It seems that you are in quite the predicament, young warlock."

Merlin fought the urge to smack his head against the nearest hard surface. "That doesn't help me. If any of the Order, especially those two, begin to realize just how much I'm meddling with events, they will never trust me. If that happens…" he trailed off. That was a consequence he really didn't want to think about.

Shuffling his wings, Kilgharrah breathed out a puff of smoke and arranged himself into a more comfortable position at the foot of Merlin's bed. "Merlin, this time and this place are very different from Camelot. You cannot operate in the shadows as you once did. In Camelot they were blind to your actions because their idea of magic did not meet with your use of it. Here, that is not the case. What you are doing now is not so out of the realm of possibilities. It is only natural that they will be suspicious."

"How exactly is that supposed to help me?" Merlin demanded in frustration. "I've already told them I'm a druid!"

"Which you really are not."

"That's not remotely the point."

"But it is, young warlock. You have not trusted them, not in truth. You seek to influence events from the shadows, to pull the strings, but not to be seen doing so."

Merlin rubbed his temples. "What else am I supposed to do? I can't exactly tell them that I'm Merlin. It's all a little far fetched, not to mention dangerous for them to know. If Riddle ever caught wind."

"If, young warlock. When have you ever allowed what may happen to dictate your actions?"

"Maybe I should have, on occasion," Merlin muttered.

Kilgharrah snorted, a black puff of smoke billowing from his nostrils. "Loathe though I am to admit this, you were right, young warlock. You cannot condemn someone for what they may do. I was wrong to ask you to condemn the witch. Just as you saw when you attempted to change the future, by causing you to doubt her character, I solidified her fate."

Merlin blinked. In all the centuries he and Kilgharrah had been forced upon each other for company, the dragon had never gone so far as to admit to being wrong, especially not about Morgana. Even considering the way things had turned out. Through his shock, Merlin did register that Kilgharrah had a point.

"That may be true, but I didn't tell Arthur about my magic for years because of the  _possibility_ ," he stressed word, "that he might not take it well. Because I waited until he'd made his own choice about magic, the world flourished."

"That was lucky," the little dragon very nearly growled. "And I would not doubt that the queen had something to do with that. You know full well that Arthur was more betrayed by your apparent lack of trust than by the fact that you practiced magic and you well know it. Do not pretend that your deception was the reason that it all worked out in the end."

Merlin wanted nothing more than to retort, but he'd almost the exact same lecture from Gaius only hours before Arthur had sat him down and, in a rare display of emotion, all but quoted Gaius.

"Maybe you have a point, but you have to admit that I had been keeping that secret for so long and had come so close to tell him only to have it blow up in my face often enough to be hesitant," Merlin pointed out tiredly.

"You can argue this point all you wish, but the fact remains that if you wish this to work you must trust them," Kilgharrah said irritably. "Your secret is not the most important thing here."

Merlin ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I know that. This secret is not about my safety, but theirs."

"Then do not tell them that you are Merlin. Merely give them reason to trust you."

With that, Kilgharrah spread his wings and leapt off the bed, clearly ending the discussion and leaving Merlin with quite a lot to think about. He supposed that he had fallen back into the same pattern of secret keeping that he'd kept in Camelot. The situations were similar enough. He was once more sneaking around a castle trying to stop someone from using magic to do horrible things. Maybe he was keeping a few too many secrets.

* * *

"Bloody hell!"

Harry thought that just about summed it up.

He and Ron had come downstairs for breakfast only to find half of the dormitory gathered around the bulletin board. A large noticed had been placed there overnight, covering most of the board, including the flyer Fred and George had put up.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" asked a second year worriedly.

"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," said Ron darkly, startling the younger student. "Doubt we're going to be as lucky, though," he added to Harry in an undertone.

The good mood that had been surrounding Harry since the successful meeting in the Three Broomsticks faded. He clenched his fists in anger. This couldn't be a coincidence.

At that moment, Myrddin stumbled downstairs, looking rather worse for the wear. His eyes were puffy with sleep and his hair was an absolute rat's nest. Harry was actually surprised to see him. When he hadn't seen Myrddin getting ready with the rest of them, Harry had assumed that he was up and out early.

"What's the matter?" Myrddin yawned.

Ron just pointed. Blinking a few times, Myrddin read the notice, becoming steadily more alert as he did. After a moment, he muttered a word under his breath that Harry didn't recognize, but that certainly sounded like a curse.

"She knows," Harry hissed angrily.

"But she can't," Ron protested immediately.

"There were loads of people in that pub. Any one of them could have been listening. And, let's face it, we don't actually know how many of people who turned up can actually be trusted."

"No one could have overheard," Myrddin interrupted. "I cast a privacy spell, remember? No one could have heard through it, nor could they have broken it."

"I bet it was Zacharias Smith," said Ron. "Or—I thought Michael Corner had a really shifty look—"

"You just think it's Corner because he's dating Ginny," snapped Myrddin, shooting a pensive and angry look at the notice. "As for Smith, he's a git, but I don't think he did this. If Umbridge actually knew what we were talking about, she'd hauled us all into her office."

"She must know something," Harry pointed out. "This can't be a coincidence."

"No, I doubt it is. It's most likely that she knows Harry met with a bunch of people, I did tell you that having that many people at the meeting was dangerous, and that she's just trying to cause as much trouble as possible. Has Hermione seen this?"

Ron shook his head. "No, let's go get her." Spinning on his heel, he bounded across the room and pulled open the door to the girls' dormitories. Myrddin raised a hand as though to say something, but Ron had already started up the spiral staircase.

He made it up three steps when it happened. A loud, wailing klaxonlike sound rang through the common room and the steps melted together to form a smooth stone slide. Ron attempted to keep his balance for a moment, his arms pin-wheeling madly. Then, he pitched backward and toppled head over heels down the slide. Myrddin and Harry both winced when Ron landed on his backside at the base of the stairs. Ron was going to have some colorful bruises at the end of the day.

"Er—I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh. He was one of the few people who were succeeding in restraining their mirth. Even Myrddin was struggling with it.

Two fourth years girl came zooming down the slide, giggling all the while.

"Who tried to get upstairs?" they asked laughingly, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added, rounding on Harry, as the girls departed, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in dormitory, how come we're not allowed?"

"According to  _Hogwarts, A History_  the founders thought that boys were less trustworthy than girls," Hermione supplies as she came sliding down the stairs to land neatly on the rug at Harry, Ron, and Myrddin's feet. Myrddin offered a hand and pulled her up.

"Why would they think that?" Ron asked grumpily.

"It probably had more to do with the morality customs of the time," said Myrddin offhandedly, his attention focused more on the decree than on the conversation. He glanced up when Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained quiet. Noticing their confused (in Ron's case) and curious (in Hermione's) expressions, he quickly explained.

"A thousand years ago it was something of big deal when women became pregnant outside of marriage, but it wasn't completely uncommon, or even unacceptable, for men to have premarital affairs. It was generally assumed that it was the woman's fault. The men got nothing more than a slap on the wrist if they were caught. The women were often shunned and sent to convents or similarly banished."

"I still don't understand what that's got to do with why girls can go into the boys' dorm, but we can't go into theirs," Ron grumbled.

Clearly wishing he'd never said anything, Myrddin heaved a sigh. "To convince parents that it was safe to send their children away, the Founders had to have some means of assuring them that their daughters were protected when they slept, even if it didn't stop them from utilizing the many secret passages of the castle."

"But that's not fair!"

"I never said it was. There's a reason people don't think like that any more."

Harry frowned slightly at the lingering bitterness in Myrddin's voice. It almost sounded like he took that sort of gender prejudice personally, as if he'd experienced it himself. Biting back a sigh, Harry filed it under "Things About Myrdinn that Make Absolutely No Sense." He'd come back to it later.

"Have you seen the board, Hermione?" he asked.

She frowned. "No, is that why Ron was trying to get up the stairs?"

"Yes! Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily, pointing at the sign.

Hermione read it quickly, her expression becoming stony as she did. "They couldn't have."

"Don't be so naïve," said Ron. "You think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy—"

"No, they can't have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly, shooting Ron a rather nasty look as she did. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" asked Ron eagerly, forgetting his anger momentarily.

"Well, put it this way," said Hermione. "It'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles."

Harry noticed that Ron looked a little too gleeful at the news and that Myrddin seemed incredibly smug about something. Harry wouldn't be surprised to find that he had added something unpleasant of his own. Harry really hoped he'd never find out what it was.

"Come on," Hermione continued. "Let's get down to breakfast. The others will have seen it… I wonder if this has been put up in all the Houses?"

"Most likely," Myrddin said tiredly, "which means we need to be sure that words gets round to the others that we aren't cancelling the Defense group. Regardless of whether this was targeted at us, we can't let that toad win."

Harry nodded grimly. Now, more than ever, he was determined to do this. He would not let Umbridge get the better of him, especially not after she had made her displeasure as clear as possible. They needed to know how to defend themselves and he would do everything in his power to help his fellow students get ready for the war to come.

As they strode over to the portrait hole, Myrddin caught Harry's eye and nodded approvingly.

* * *

Arthur was bored. He'd wandered through the entire castle, just to see if Merlin's spell actually worked and because there was little else to do when he was stuck as a portrait that everyone wrote off as absolutely mad.

He was almost positive that his newfound magical capabilities had absolutely nothing to do with the way he'd been immortalized on a portrait and everything to do with Merlin trying to be a good friend. Arthur suspected this because, despite being born of magic, he'd never had the slightest aptitude for actually using it when he was still alive.

Given the frequency with which Arthur found himself threatened by sorcerers and magical creatures, he and Merlin had both thought it wise that Arthur learn at least the basics of magic. Almost everyone could, according to Merlin, but that hadn't included Arthur. He hadn't shown the slightest bit of magical talent and they had certainly tried. He highly doubted that becoming a portrait would make any difference, whatsoever. But he knew what Merlin was trying to do. The ever-loyal idiot was trying to give him the means to do something, anything, to feel useful without feeling like an imposition. If it had been necessary to get Merlin's help every time he wanted to leave his portrait without drawing attention to himself, that is exactly what Arthur would have felt like.

Still, one could only entertain themselves for so long by wandering around a castle, invisible and alone, even if it was a magic castle. This was especially true for Arthur. He had spent decades in the presence of a warlock who, at times, had still had the mentality of a child and who had devoted several decades to instructing young sorcerers. Things like moving staircases and errant spells wreaking havoc hadn't been uncommon in Camelot.

Arthur was itching to  _do_  something. He'd gotten little useful information during his wanderings. There were no pictures in the teachers' lounge for privacy's sake and nothing of interest had happened with Umbridge in the past few days, other than him being scarred for life when he'd accidentally stepped into one of her animated plates. The fluffy little kitten had been taller than him and one hiss from that thing had been enough to send Arthur running.

It had only been a few days since Merlin had taken that spell of him and even if he hadn't really expected to find much of anything so soon, Arthur was really, really bored. Which meant he was left with his own thoughts, which was never, ever good. Merlin had told him that many a time.

He hadn't gone back to see Merlin since their confrontation a few days before. He was reluctant to, which was part of why he was attempting to entertain himself by running around the school. It was all still a bit too fresh for Arthur. The very idea that so much time had passed for Merlin when so little had passed for him was hard to process, especially given the circumstances under which they'd parted. It hadn't been their first argument of that kind, but it had been the worse, and Arthur couldn't help but feel guilty for the fact Merlin had spent three hundred years alone.

The weight of those years had shown in Merlin's eyes and in the subtle droop of his shoulders. No one else would have noticed. Well, Gwen or one of the knights might've, but they were all long gone. Kilgharrah might've noticed as well, but Arthur doubted that he'd anything all that helpful to say. He and Merlin had never gotten on all that well. Theirs had been a relationship of necessity, not fondness as far as he could tell.

Arthur had easily gotten over the issues that had started that argument. He had always known that if he could have, Merlin would have been right on the front lines. He had just let his frustration get the better of him and stormed out in a righteous huff. It had been stupid, but inevitable. It had been easy to let go of that anger in light of the fact that Merlin was now actually affecting the world again.

What wasn't easy to let go of was the guilt. Arthur knew that Merlin didn't blame him, would never even consider blaming him for something that wasn't his fault. In fact, Arthur had rather got the impression that Merlin was blaming himself for not looking into things sooner. Unfortunately, that didn't nothing to alleviate the guilt Arthur was feeling for his part in the whole mess.

The bell sounded and the halls filled in a rush of noise. Arthur heaved himself to his feet. With nothing better to do, he'd decided to spend the day following Merlin. This was partly in the hopes that he'd get a better idea of how Merlin really was. So far, all he could tell was that Merlin did seem a bit more worn down by the world than he had three hundred years ago, but the explanation for that was pretty obvious.

Merlin exited the classroom with three students that Arthur could only assume were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They certainly fit the descriptions that Merlin had given. Merlin hung back a bit behind the other three. Arthur wished that he could hear what they were talking about, but the noise of the corridor drowned them out. He followed them through the various portraits.

It wasn't until they reached the potions' classroom that the noise died down a bit. The four students – Arthur snorted a bit at the thought of Merlin being a student when he'd known more than all of the teaches in the school combined a thousand years ago – crowded into a corner, a little bit separate from the rest of the class.

"You know, we haven't exactly figured out where we're going to meet," said the girl, ( _Hermione_ , Arthur corrected himself) in an undertone. "With this new decree, it's going to be difficult to find someplace safe."

The dark haired boy, whom Arthur assumed to be Harry, nodded grimly. "Don't suppose you have any ideas."

"Not really," she said. "The library wouldn't do, and neither would any of the classrooms."

"What about the forest?" asked Ron.

Hermione gave him a withering look. "The forest that's filled with acromantulas and all sorts of other creatures?"

The color drained from his face. "Right, not there then. Maybe we could ask Fred and George. They know the school better than anyone. They've got to know somewhere we could go."

A sly look crossed Hermione's face. If he hadn't been paying attention or so well experienced in noticing minute facial expressions, Arthur wouldn't have noticed. He was pretty sure the only other person who did was Merlin.

"Maybe you should write to Snuffles, Harry. I bet he'd have an idea of where to look."

"No," said Harry in a flat tone that brooked no argument. "I'll not give him any reason to get out of the house, not after the last time. We'll have to figure this out alone."

Hermione let out a resigned sigh, looking almost worried by that response, as did Ron. Merlin looked particularly disastified, but none of them said anything. Arthur knew there had to be a story there. He'd have to ask Merlin about it later. And what sort of name was Snuffles, anyway?

A drawling voice cut through the short silence that had fallen between Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Merlin. A boy with white blonde hair was waving an official looking piece of parchment around and talking much louder than was necessary so that everyone gathered outside the classroom could hear.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry….It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching the boy with faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants."

"I mean," continued the boy, raising his voice a little, his eyes glinting maliciously in the direction of Harry and Ron, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance. From what father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter…My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. Apparently they have a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

The boy pulled a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. The two brutish looking boys standing to either side of them grunted stupidly while the girl standing opposite him let out a peal of shrill laughter.

"Do something, Merlin," Arthur hissed. Merlin had told Arthur about the smear campaign the Ministry was running against Harry as part of the efforts to pretend nothing was wrong. The fact that someone would mock another in such a manner as the blonde, drawling boy was mocking Harry did not sit well with Arthur, to say the least. He was itching to punch the imbecile. In lieu of that, he'd settle for Merlin turning the boy into something unpleasant.

A boy came barreling down the hall, knocking Harry sideways.

"Neville,  _no!"_  Harry shouted, leaping forward and seizing the back of Neville's robes. The other boy struggled frantically, his fist flailing as he struggled to reach the drawling boy, who looked rather shocked.

Harry managed to get an arm around Neville's neck and start dragging him backward, away from the drawling boy and the Slytherins standing around him. The two brutish boys were flexing their arms.

"Help me!" grit out Harry. Ron hurried forward and seized Neville's arms. Together, he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet with anger.

Throughout it all, Merlin stood stock still, his hands curled into fists at his side, the barest hint of gold visible in his eyes. Arthur frowned. He'd expecting Merlin to be angry, but not that angry.

"What do you know that we don't, Merlin?" he whispered, filing the question away for later.

The pressure Harry was putting on Neville's throat was causing most of what came out of his mouth to become incomprehensible gibberish, but the odd word did splutter forth.

"Not…funny…Mungo's…show…him…"

The dungeon door flew open and a tall man with dark, greasy hair appeared. The hall immediately fell silent and everyone went still. The man coolly took in the scene before him.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he sneered in a cold voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

Harry let go of Neville, who panted and glared at him.

"I had to," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would have torn you apart."

Neville just snatched up his own bag and stormed into the dungeons.

"What in the name of Merlin was that about?" asked Ron, staring after him.

Arthur noticed Merlin tense just slightly at the sound of his name before rolling his eyes the tiniest bit.  _That must be driving him crazy,_  Arthur thought, even as he wondered the exact same thing as Ron.

Harry didn't answer, but something about the guilty, understanding look in his eye told Arthur that he knew exactly what that had been about.

The rest of the class filed into the classroom without further incident. A moment later, the door closed behind them. Sighing, Arthur made himself comfortable in a corner of the portrait. Nothing to do now but wait until class ended.

* * *

It took far more restraint than it should for Merlin to refrain from doing something truly nasty to Malfoy. He knew what an arse the boy could be and he knew why. One of the many things Merlin was hoping to do was to help Malfoy. But, by Avalon and all of the gods of the Old Religion, he wanted nothing more than to curse Draco with some horrible disease for what he'd said. Merlin wanted to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt and believe that he hadn't actually been targeting Neville as much as Harry and Ron, but he couldn't quite make it there.

With exaggerated calm, Merlin pulled out his books and set up his cauldron. He did his best to ignore the mutterings that filled the room. Everyone was surprised by Neville's outburst.

"You will notice," said Snape in a low voice brimming with annoyance, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured toward one corner of the dungeons. Everyone turned to see Umbridge sitting primly on a stool, a clipboard on her knee. Harry was glancing between Umbridge and Snape with anticipation. Merlin turned back to his cauldron and rolled his eyes. He supposed Harry was looking forward to seeing his two least favorite people go toe to toe. He was more interested in what position Umbidge was going to take with Snape and whether the potions' master could keep mastery of his temper.

Acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, Snape swept to the front of the classroom. "We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions"—he waved his wand – "on the board. Carry on."

For the first half hour or so, not much happened as the class followed Snape's instruction. Merlin concentrated on being especially careful not to draw attention to his potion-brewing abilities. She was already looking for Emrys without having reason to be suspicious of Myrddin as well.

That wasn't to say he wasn't paying careful attention to everything else that was going on. Umbridge sat quietly in her corner, scribbling non-stop while Snape stalked through the classroom, doing his best to pretend that she wasn't there. Merlin was pleased to note that the man seemed to be making some effort to be fairer to everyone, especially considering how difficult that had to be under the circumstances. At least he wasn't going out of his way to praise the Slytherins or berate the Gryffindors.

"Salamander bloody, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"

Merlin sighed and flicked his wrist casually behind his cauldron. A rune flashed across the surface of Harry's cauldron for the briefest moment. Now if Harry added the wrong ingredient, no one would get blown up.

"Right," said Harry vaguely to Hermione, putting down the bottle and picking up the correct one by pure chance.

 _He's really not subtle_ , thought Merlin.

Umbridge stood from her corner. She nestled her clipboard in the crook of her elbow, and walked over to where Snape was bent over Dean Thomas' cauldron. Harry let out a quiet sound of triumph and seemed to almost vibrate with anticipation. He wasn't the only one. It seemed that the entire classroom was holding its breath. Even Merlin set down his ladle to watch.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

 _Oh, honestly. The Strengthening Solution has been on the syllabus for generations. It's the perfect building block for more complicated potions. She's just got her panties in a twist because it might possibly make someone a bit stronger than normal,_  thought Merlin peevishly.

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her. Something told Merlin that the other man had exactly the same opinion that he did, but he said nothing.

"Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?"

Merlin frowned.  _Where is she going with that? I'd have thought Snape would be one of the teachers toady would actually like._

"Yes," said Snape, his eyes sparking with anger so well hidden, Merlin was pretty sure he was the only one who could see it. Umbridge certainly didn't.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled. Merlin couldn't blame him.

"Obviously."

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. Honestly, where was she going with this?

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. Silently, Merlin thanked him for asking the question. He doubted that she would give a straight answer, but it might give him some leverage to use.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er—backgrounds…"

Merlin frowned a gain, more deeply than before. Was she implying something about Snape's history as a death eater? Because that honestly didn't make much sense. Everyone knew about Lucius Malfoy's connections to Voldemort, but that didn't stop Umbridge from considering him an upstanding citizen of the wizarding world. Perhaps, she was going to try to use Dumbledore's refusal to employ Snape in the Dark Arts post as another reason he shouldn't be headmaster, but Merlin didn't particularly think that made sense, either. So what was she up to?

His frown only deepened when he noticed Umbridge walk over to Pansy Parkinson and begin asking her questions about the lessons. That probably wouldn't turn out well for the Gryffindor students.

A shadow fell over the table and Merlin glanced up to see Snape looming over Harry's cauldron. This close, Merlin could see the barely restrained fury in the man's eyes. Merlin couldn't blame him. He'd be just as furious if someone questioned his judgment while bringing up dark memories. If the white-knuckle grip Harry had on the edge of his chair was anything to go by, he'd noticed just how angry Snape was as well and was fully expecting some of that fury to be taken out on him. He was staring at his congealing, foul-smelling potion with a carefully blank expression. Merlin winced. There was no salvaging that.

"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape, his voice quiet but distinctly lacking any malice, which surprised even Merlin. He calmly waved his wand and vanished the smoking potion. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry furiously. Merlin rolled his eyes. That had actually been incredibly fair, in his opinion, but then again, Snape could have given Harry full marks and Harry still would have found a reason to twist it.

When the bell rang a few moments later and the entire class hurried off for lunch, Merlin tarried until the classroom emptied, making a show of having to wrestle with his cauldron.

"Would you be willing to do me a favor?" he asked once it was safe. He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione are going to start a defense club seeing as Umbridge isn't teaching them anything worth a damn. I'm doing what I can to help them, but I think she's suspicious."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "The decree?"

"Exactly. They met with a bunch of students in Hogsmeade. Too, many, honestly. They attracted attention. I'm pretty sure she'd just suspicious. Would you be willing to let me know if Umbridge says anything or starts asking questions that might suggest she's getting any more suspicious?"

"You think it wise for Potter to be instructing students?" asked Snape. He sounded skeptical, but not dismissive.

"I do," said Merlin firmly. "He did survive the Tournament. Even you have to admit he's got a knack for Defense and he has actual experience in a fight. He's our best bet. Besides, I'll be there if anything goes wrong." He leaned forward, planting his hands on his desk to gaze at Snape. "We need someone to teach these children. They're not going their O.W.L's at this rate, let alone survive a war. None of the teachers can do anything. They'll get sacked. I do believe Harry is a good choice for this and, if at all possible, I'd like a bit of help making sure he can."

Snape slowly lowered himself into his chair, clearly deep in thought. "Very well. I will inform you if Madam Umbridge says anything that might imply she is aware of this scheme. Loath though I am to admit it, Potter is indeed gifted in Defense. Just make sure he doesn't destroy the school."

Merlin smiled gratefully and hurried off to lunch before anyone could notice that he was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we'll finally get to see Sirius and Harry talk. I'll try to get it up more quickly than this one.


	16. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I have no excuse for how long this took. All I can do is shake my head in shame and offer this chapter up as a peace offering.

“Do you think I’m acting too much like I’m back in Camelot?”

 

Completely nonplussed, Arthur looked up from his inspection of his armor, which was still in perfect condition, despite the passage of the years. Merlin was standing in the middle of the hallway looking completely frazzled. His hair was sticking up in a half a dozen different directions, clearly evidence of the number of times he’d run his hand through it in agitation. At the moment, his fingers were occupied with worrying the hem of his un-tucked school shirt.

 

“What on earth would give you that idea?” Arthur demanded. It wasn’t often that he saw Merlin so completely freaked out.

 

“It was something Kilgharrah said—“

 

“That explains it,” Arthur muttered. Merlin ignored him.

 

“—and he’s got a point. I’m right back to keeping secrets, even if they’re slightly different now than they were then. I’m back to influencing events from the shadows, playing god with people’s lives. I’m lying to people I’d like to call my friends and it’s not doing a damn bit of good, not really—“

 

“Stop right there!” hissed Arthur. “That’s more than enough. Do you even hear yourself? Of course you’re doing some good! Didn’t you tell me that because of your interference Harry wasn’t left in the dark over the summer, which made him much less mad at the world in general? And what about Sirius? Hadn’t you done something to help him out just days before you woke me up?”

 

Merlin shrugged it off. “So maybe I am making a bit of difference. What about the rest of it? I haven’t told them my real name! I told them I was a druid and I’m not! I don’t even practice the Old Religion!”

 

“Really, Merlin? _I_ didn’t know the difference between a druid and the average practitioner of the Old Religion, or that not everyone with magic followed the Old Religion until _you_ explained it to me and I’d been ruling Camelot for nearly a decade! How can you expect people who are living more than a thousand years in the future to understand subtleties that people of the _past_ didn’t understand? For god’s sake, think! I doubt any one would blame you for the little white lie of claiming yourself to be a druid when they don’t know what actually makes someone a druid and when history labels you as one!

 

“And as for playing God. What else are you supposed to do? For all my complaining about your lack of action, I do understand that your hands are well and truly tied. The past and the present are black and white. They aren’t meant to touch. But you, you’re a grey area that hasn’t truly come to be yet. You are the past living in the present, somehow not to be there, but still not meant to affect it until something else happens. You’ve said that to me a million times. You’re bloody lucky that you can do as much as you can, even if it is done primarily by pulling strings from the shadows.”

 

Merlin fell back against the far wall and slid to the ground, burying his head in his hands. “I know that, I do. But things aren’t the same now. I’m actually here to make a difference.”

 

“You still have to be cognizant of the fact that you’re a person from the past,” Arthur growled. He hated it when Merlin began to second-guess himself like this. It happened only rarely, but when it did Merlin lost all sense of logic he had until someone managed to talk sense into him. He questioned every decision he’d made, even the ones that had little to do with whatever was actually bothering him. It was something Arthur had had to do far many times. 

 

“Even I know that nothing would be accomplished if the great and powerful Merlin swooped in and saved the day. For one, you can’t do it because of the magic that is keeping Voldemort alive, and for another, it really does accomplish nothing. That state of things would remain the same, despite your deus ex machine rescue!”

 

“Desu ex machina?” repeated Merlin in bemusement. “Wherever did you hear that?”

 

“Never you mind. Do you actually hear what I’m trying to tell you?”

 

“I do. I’m rather sure I’ve said it all to you at some point.”

 

“Which is part of what makes this whole conversation incredibly pointless. You and I both know it wasn’t necessary for me to repeat any of that to you, so why don’t you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

 

“That was part of it,” said Merlin, dropping his head back against the wall with a dull thud and looking up at Arthur for the first time in several minutes. “So much rests on them trusting me. They barely trust Myrddin right now. What are they going to do when they find out that I’m Merlin? That I’ve been watching this happen ever since Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets? That even now I have knowledge that would give them an edge, but that I can’t give to them because of magical laws of nature that _I_ barely understand, let alone am able to explain? What are they going to think when they find out that I could have made a difference?”

 

Arthur honestly wasn’t sure what to say to that at first. To the outsider that would all seem true when they found out who Merlin really was. It wasn’t true, but they would have no way to know that. It certainly seemed as if Merlin had spent the better part of the last twelve centuries twiddling his thumbs while the world crumbled.

 

“I didn’t even realize how much it was worrying me until recently,” Merlin continued softly. “Dumbledore sent me a note. Sirius is desperate to get in touch with Harry, in part because of my interference. Modern methods are unsafe because of Madam Toad’s presence at the school, so Dumbledore turned to me. The only halfway decent plan I can come up with runs the great risk of putting them well on the trail to figuring out who I am. It means furthering a lie I foolishly began and risking my secret and I can’t help but hesitate, because if they cease to trust me, then any chance I have of doing some good is lost.”

 

“Would that have stopped you before?” Arthur asked. He leaned as close to the edge of his portrait as he could. He thought he finally understood something of what was bothering Merlin and that he finally knew how to address it.

 

Merlin cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

 

“When did the risk of someone finding out about your magic ever stop you in Camelot?” the king specified. “That was your secret then and it never stopped you once. If it had to be done to protect us, you did it. You tried to be discreet, but when push came to shove, you stood right out in the open as a sorcerer to save us all. I think Kilgharrah’s wrong. I don’t think you’re treating this enough like Camelot. You’re being too cautious. I’m not saying that you should proclaim that you’re Merlin to the Great Hall during dinner, but take the risk just like you took the risk every time you did magic to save me.”

 

He could see the moment his words really sank in for Merlin. The lines of his shoulders slumped a little bit and the tension leaked from his body.

 

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize that.”

 

“Well, you’re an idiot. We established that centuries ago.”

 

Arthur’s attempt to lighten the mood was successful. Merlin laughed. It was a relief to hear. Merlin had been uncommonly serious since he’d brought Arthur back to himself. The only explanation the king could find was that the centuries had been far harder on him than he was letting on. It would certainly explain the bout of insecurity Arthur had just witnessed. Merlin was terrified of screwing up.

 

“Just out of curiosity, what part of your plan to get Harry and Sirius to speak to one another brought all this on?” he asked.

 

“I think I’m going to take them to one of the places where Avalon still touches the mortal world.” Merlin heaved himself back to his feet as he spoke. “You have to have Old Magic to enter, so I’m the only one who can without aid. The only problem is I approached Sirius under a guise as a druid. Since Harry, Ron, and Hermione think me to be one, that means I either make up some story that connects the nameless Druid with Myrddin, or I have to admit to meddling, or I simply pretend that the druid never existed and act as if I know nothing about him. None of them seem like good options.”

 

“Basically, you’ve created yourself another Dragoon,” Arthur observed.

 

Merlin snorted. “I suppose I have. Except I never had to create a believable story that connected Merlin to Dragoon and later Emrys until I was telling that I had magic and that made me Emrys. This time round I’ve laid the groundwork for two different stories without really thinking about the repercussions.”

 

“What are you planning to do?”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be giving me advice, not making me figure it out for myself,” Merlin groused.

 

Even all these centuries later, the irony of their friendship sometimes struck Arthur. There had been a time when both of them would have damn near died before asking the other for advice, for letting some kind of vulnerability be visible. Now they turned to each other for everything, even though Arthur was little more than living pigment.

 

“If you want my opinion, I’d continue to play both rolls until you haven’t much other choice. It does give you some flexibility, so I wouldn’t the discard the disguise. You just need a good reason for why Myrddin knows a druid, so you might have to let more than the trio know you’re a druid.” Arthur shrugged. “Still, I’m not the one doing it and I have far less understanding than you do of how events are playing out.”

 

Merlin looked thoughtful, which Arthur took to mean that the idea had already crossed the warlock’s mind and that he’d just been hesitant to settle on that course of action.

 

“You’re right,” said Merlin after a long moment. “That druid could come in a lot of handy, just like Dragoon. I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to explain that Myrddin isn’t the only Druid interested in helping the wizarding world but that most are far more wary of being on the front line. It’ll be one more thing to explain when I tell them I’m Merlin, but I’d have to explain him away no matter what.

 

“But you’re right, that wouldn’t have stopped me in Camelot. I’d have hated it, but it wouldn’t have stopped me. I won’t let it now.”

 

“Stop wasting time then,” Arthur barked, hiding a grin. “Get to it! Honestly, you always were laziest manservant in the castle.”

 

“Only because I was saving your sorry arse,” Merlin bandied back. “I’ll check in with you once it’s done. This promises to be an interesting encounter.”

 

The last was muttered to himself as he was clearly already becoming preoccupied with the logistics of what he had to do. Arthur just shook his head fondly. Now that Merlin wasn’t second guessing himself, he was perfectly content to sit back and enjoy the show. The grin he’d bit back before came out in full force when the warlock, muttering to himself incoherently under his breath, walked away without bothering to say good bye. Minor crisis averted, Arthur strolled out of his portrait to continue reacquainting himself with the school.

 

The moment he’d disappeared from sight, two red headed boys, identical to the last freckle, came tumbling out of the alcove down the hall where they had been hiding. They took one look at the empty portrait before turning to each other and saying in stunned voices, “What the hell?”

 

*******

 

Not for the first time, Merlin really wished that he’d taken the time to think before acting.

 

Fresh from his conversation with Arthur and feeling more clear-headed than he had in weeks, Merlin had gone straight to the Room of Requirement. Time was of the essence and he had wasted far too much dithering about. He’d wanted to give Sirius and Harry as much time together as possible. Time passed more slowly in the places where Avalon still touched the mortal world, but pass it did. The more time they had on this side of Avalon, the more time they would have beyond it. He couldn’t risk running into someone from the Order. It had been pure luck that Sirius had been alone the last time Merlin had decided to show up. Grimmuald was still headquarters, no matter that the kids and the elder Weasleys weren’t there. The others came and went with regularity and Merlin knew for a fact that Remus practically lived there when he wasn’t off trying to infiltrate the packs. Merlin did not have time to waste answering the questions of any suspicious wizards he might come across if he just burst into headquarters.

 

Somewhere between Arthur’s portrait and the Room of Requirement Merlin had gotten the bright idea to magic himself into Mrs. Black’s old chambers. He didn’t know the house as well as he’d like and it was one of the few rooms he was confident would be empty and that he would be able to visualize well enough to reach without mishap.

 

He had, unfortunately, managed to forget Buckbeak.

 

Merlin just managed to dodge the charging hippogriff. He backpedaled quickly, putting as much distance as possible between them. Bowing would be of little good now, but he did so anyway, saying in as calm a voice as he could muster, _“Fréod! Éadnes. Ic m_ _ænan nan bealue.”_

Buckbeak settled at the sound of his quiet words of the Old Tongue. Merlin bowed more deeply and waited. Animals, especially magical creatures, had some ability to understand the Old Tongue. For a long moment the hippogriff stared at Merlin with one large unblinking orange eye. Merlin reluctantly gathered his power. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Buckbeak. That would just make things complicated.

 

Then the great beast inclined his head in a bow almost as deep as Merlin’s. Relief flooded Merlin. He straightened up and approached Buckbeak carefully, in case the hippogriff was still uneasy. There was no need to worry. Buckbeak pushed his beak into Merlin’s outstretched hand. Merlin smiled.

 

“My thanks,” he said gratefully. “I did not intend to startle you.”

 

At least he’d had the foresight not to use his preferred method of magical transport. The accompanying wind would surely have alerted any wizards in the house so he’d settled for something similar to apparition. He didn’t even want to think about Buckbeak’s reaction if he’d been caught in the magical gale.

 

His sharp ears caught the sound of raised voices from downstairs. He thought one might be Mrs. Weasley. She was probably arguing with Sirius about Harry again, which was yet another reason why Merlin was so keen to help mend and strengthen the relationship between godfather and godson.

 

“Well, walking downstairs is no longer an option,” he muttered. “Any ideas, Beaky?”

 

The hippogriff clicked his beak.

 

Nodding as though he’d understood, Merlin said, “Of course. I’ll have Kreacher send a message. _Cume, Kreacher._ ”

 

He’d no sooner spoken than a loud crack echoed through the room. Buckbeak started a bit at the noise, but calmed quickly under Merlin’s hand. Kreacher practically face planted in his hurry to bow.

 

“Master warlock, yous is calling Kreacher.”

 

“Indeed,” said Merlin lightly, trying not to let on that the show of subservience embarrassed him a bit. He never could get used to having people kowtow to him, even when he’d been court sorcerer. “I need to speak to Sirius. Discreetly inform him of my presence and get him up here as quickly as possible without attracting attention. This meeting must remain a secret. Wait if you must.”

 

“Right away, master warlock.”

 

“Master warlock,” Merlin repeated when the crack from Kreacher’s disapparation stopped ringing through the room. “That’s a new one.”

 

He sighed and leaned against the wall to wait.

 

It didn’t take long. Thundering footsteps sounded on the stairs. Merlin frowned. He perhaps should have specified to Kreacher not to frighten Sirius in the process of telling him that Merlin was waiting to speak to him.

 

“Sirius, what is the matter with you?” Remus shouted. “Have you lost your mind?”

 

Yeah, he definitely should have been more specific.

 

“Not now, Moony!”

 

Sirius came bursting into the room, looking to be on the verge of panic. Merlin suppressed a wince. The goal of this trip hadn’t been to worry either of the Marauders any more than he already had on his first visit. He really should have asked the elf to a least attempt to alarm Sirius and, by extension, Remus.

 

“Why are you here?” Sirius demanded. “What did I do wrong now?”

 

“Noth—“

 

“What in Merlin’s name has gotten into you—“ Remus pulled up short just inside the door when caught sight of Merlin. His face went from concerned to smooth in an instant and Merlin caught a furtive movement that could only be him reaching for his wand. “Who are you?” he asked.

 

“A friend,” said Merlin as Sirius supplied, “The druid.”

 

_So Sirius has mentioned me. Maybe that means Remus won’t try to curse me._

“Ah.” Remus eyed Merlin carefully, taking in the markings on his staff and cloak, before turning to Sirius. “I take that this is what Kreacher told you that sent you hurtling out of the drawing room like Padfoot after a cat.”

 

“I am sorry for that,” interjected Merlin. “I am in something of a rush but I did not intend for my presence here to startle you. Nothing is wrong, as you are clearly imagining. It has simply come to my attention that you wish to speak to Harry. I can help.”

 

A look of barely restrained hope appeared in Sirius’ eyes. “You can? How?”

 

“As a Druid, I have access to magic that the wizarding world does not. I can take you somewhere the Ministry does not even know exists by means they have never heard of,” Merlin hedged. He knew that he had no hope of satisfactorily explaining what he was about to do without taking simply taking them to the site. By no fault of their own, it was magic that was simply beyond the understanding of the modern wizard.

 

Merlin knew the moment that he’d spoken that his explanation wasn’t going to be good enough. Remus and Sirius exchanged a loaded glance. Sirius was clearly torn between not really trusting Merlin and wanting to speak to Harry, while Remus was just completely unconvinced. Merlin didn’t need to be a seer to know that they were going want a better explanation, one that he couldn’t really give while still standing in Grimmuald.

 

That made things fairly simple, if not easy. After his conversation with Arthur, Merlin wasn’t going to let that stop him.

 

He pulled his wand out of his pocket, transforming it back into his staff as he did. At the sound of the ancient wood striking the floor, Remus and Sirius looked over at him. Their eyes widened. Merlin gave them no other warning. Using the innate magic of the crystal to anchor himself, he allowed his soul and his magic to reach into the ether. He felt for Sirius’ and Remus’ magic. Their energy was easily recognizable: two bright spots in writing shadow. He could see the taint Azkaban had left on Sirius and the pain of bearing the werewolf’s curse on Remus. Merlin reached for them. He bound their magic in his own, granting them, for the moment, the blessing of Old Magic and thus access to their destination.

 

Their magic firmly wrapped in his, Merlin whisked them away.

 

The site they arrived at wasn’t too far from Hogwarts. It was just a place where, for some reason, Old Magic naturally still lingered. As far as Merlin could remember, there was nothing special about it, but even he didn’t know everything. It might well be a place of some importance that had merely been forgotten.

 

It looked incredibly similar to the grotto that the Room of Requirement had conjured up for him. The usual carven stones were positioned in a circle around a larger stone nearly covered in runes. Just a glance told Merlin that they were just the basic markings. Torches were spaced intermittently through the meadow the stones stood in. The only particularly strange thing was the mist the surround the entire area. The meadow just melted into fog about ten yards from the center stone. The mist even obscured the sky.

 

“Where the hell are we?”

 

While Merlin had been examining the site, Sirius and Remus had managed to catch their breath and clamber to their feet. They were now both pointing wands at Merlin.

 

“A site of Old Magic,” said Merlin calmly. “It is a place where, for reasons that are unknown, the magic of Old is still strong. We are as safe here as we can be anywhere. Only those who possess Old Magic can cross the boundary. The Ministry can’t track us here.”

 

“How can we even trust you?” growled Sirius. “You practically kidnapped us.”

 

Merlin winced. “I do apologize for that, but would have you believed me if I told you about this place? _I_ don’t understand how it can be here, and I practice Old Magic. I knew of no other way to convince you, especially when we had so little time.”

 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” asked Remus. His grip on his wand was white-knuckled.

 

“Simply that tonight may be my only chance to help you speak to Harry in some time,” Merlin explained hurriedly. He really needed to start thinking about the implications of what he was saying if he wanted to refrain from giving the other two wizards a stress-related heart attack. “I can’t be sure when I will be able to return and time passes differently here. It should give you more than enough time to talk, but I would like as much leeway as possible to do this.”

 

Their wands still did not waver. They were justifiable wary. The wizarding world was in the middle of a war and they had no real idea who Merlin was. It was one of the cons to being unable to tell everyone who he was and capitalizing on his influence as Merlin.

 

An idea struck him with force that rivaled the time an enthusiastic Aithusa had clipped him round the head with a wing. Merlin drew himself up to his full height and clasped the hand that still grasped his staff over his heart. “I swear by this staff and by my magic that I mean you no harm. In Emrys’ name, so mote it be.”

 

The wording felt a bit strange on his tongue. As Emrys, he should have said it a little bit different. But the intent was the same and no less potent. A wave of magic rippled across the meadow. The Marauders’ robes almost rippled when it hit them and they gasped when they felt it. Merlin knew that his eyes were blazing with magic.

 

The magic faded quickly. Merlin allowed himself to slump a little bit, to be more Merlin the manservant, than Emrys. “Will that suffice?” he asked.

 

Sirius and Remus nodded dumbly.

 

“In that case, I shall fetch Harry. Do not attempt to cross into the mist,” he warned. “Only one who possesses the Old Religion can do so safely. What I did to allow you to enter this place is only temporary. It’s already faded. I don’t even want to think about the possible consequences.”

 

Feeling like being a little dramatic after his oath, Merlin spun on his heel and vanished in a flash of golden light. He paused in the Room of Requirement long enough to reign in his magic and change his clothes back into the school uniform.

 

“So far, so good. Now to get Harry.”

 

He hadn’t risked bring up Sirius in front of Harry since he’d made his first visit to Grimmuald. The few times one of the others had – outside Potions earlier that day was a good example – Harry had not reacted well. Harry had done a god job of pretending to be all right, but it was fairly obvious that it was bothering, no matter how he had managed to rationalize it. He’d spent the last week dwelling on what Sirius had said and worrying about how being in Grimmuald was affecting his godfather. So, Merlin had made a point of not mentioning it.

 

It was also why he had no intention of actually telling Harry what was going on.

 

******

 

Harry felt like banging his head against the table. Fred and George had commandeered the center of the common room for a demonstration of one of their products. They took turns popping a candy into their mouths only to vomit spectacularly seconds later into large buckets placed strategically at their feet. The students gathered around them applauded every time they did while Hermione sniffed loudly in displeasure.

 

It was driving Harry mad.

 

“Just go and stop them,” he said irritably, crossing out a line on his parchment with enough force to suggest it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

 

“I can’t, they’re not _technically_ doing anything wrong,” Hermione grit out. “They’re quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves, and I can’t find a rule that says the other idiots aren’t entitled to buy them, not unless they’re proven to be dangerous in some way, and it doesn’t look as though they are.”

 

Harry was saved trying to find anything to say to that when Myrddin appeared out of nowhere next to him and hissed into his ear, “I need to speak to you. Alone.”

 

Curious despite himself, Harry looked at him suspiciously. He hadn’t questioned it when Myrddin had mentioned that he was leaving dinner early to work on his assignments. But then the common room had been empty when the rest of them returned. According to the Marauder’s Map, Myrddin hadn’t been in the Library or any of the classrooms, or anywhere else on campus for that matter.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Ron, looking up from his homework.

 

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly. “Myrddin just needs to talk to me about something.”

 

“Is the dormitory empty?” Myrddin asked.

 

Harry glanced around the room. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all sitting in the common room, watching Fred and George’s show. “Looks like,” he said, getting to his feet.

 

“Good. Come on. It’s important.”

 

Ignoring the worried glance Hermione and Ron shared Harry hurried to follow him up the stairs.

 

He found Myrddin standing in the center of the room. He had a staff in his hand with strange symbols carved into it. The blue stone at the top was glowing slightly, as were Myrddin’s eyes.

 

Before Harry could do so much as move, he felt a wave of magic crash down on him and wrap him gently in its power. It felt like electricity was being passed over his skin. Every nerve in his body stood on end. A gust of wind sprang up out of nowhere and lifted Harry off his feet, spinning him around more thoroughly than a portkey. He felt like he was falling, just tumbling through space. The magic continued to thrum around him, just as gently as before, while the wind tugged and pushed him in first one direction, then the next.

 

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been falling when he just stopped. There was suddenly ground beneath his feet. The wind was gone and the magic that had surrounded him as well. His knees buckled, sending him face first onto the grass.

 

“Sorry about that,” said Myrddin from somewhere above Harry. “I find travelling like that is better without warning if you haven’t done it before.”

 

The dizziness clearing, Harry sprang to his feet and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Myrddin held his hands up apologetically.

 

“There’s a very good explanation for this. Look around, please, and hear me out.”

 

Reflexively, Harry glanced around. He nearly dropped his wand. It looked like they’d fallen through time. The stones that surrounded them exuded age. They were weathered and moss covered, but still strong and whole. The air buzzed with magic so old it was almost alive.

 

“Where in Merlin’s name are we?”

 

Myrddin gave an almost imperceptible eye roll before gesturing expansively. “This is place of Old Magic. There are a couple spread across the country and a handful across the world. They’re just places where magic is different. Stronger. They’re not quite of this realm anymore.”

 

“And why are we here?” Harry nearly growled.

 

“Well, see, that’s a bit complicated.”

 

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment covered in familiar, loopy handwriting. Warily, Harry took it. His eyebrows rose with each word.

 

“ _Dumbledore_ asked you to do this?”

 

Myrddin nodded. “I don’t know the details. That note is all I have, but between the way you’ve been acting every time someone mentions Sirius, even in vaguest passing, and the fact that Dumbledore went so far as to involve me, I’d think it’s safe to say that the situation is approaching desperate.” He sighed and ran the hand not gripping his staff through his hair. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. Sirius is already here, and Remus as well. You’ve got at least a couple of hours before we have to get back. Do whatever you see fit with the time you have. I’ll return when time is up. Don’t try crossing into the mist. Only someone of Old magic can enter or leave this place without some sort of aid.”

 

Without another word, Myrddin turned on his heel, and disappeared into the mist.

 

Harry sighed and plodded toward the circle of stones. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait and did a good job of explaining why Merlin has been hesitating a little bit. I’m not going to make any promises about when I’ll have the next chapter done, but I will get to work on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a crossover. I hope you enjoy! Please send me a review, even a flame would be welcome. I just want to know if I'm doing this right.


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